


Blossoms of the Court: To be wooed by a Prince

by seraph7



Series: Blossoms of the Court [2]
Category: 16th & 17th Century CE RPF, 17th Century CE RPF, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 17th Century, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Historical, Cross-Generation Relationship, Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Infidelity, Morganatic Marriage, Older Man/Younger Woman, Parental Disapproval, Restoration England, Royal Mistresses, Royalty, Scandal, Secret Marriage, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-02 20:04:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 93,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1061032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraph7/pseuds/seraph7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beautiful brilliant Margaery Tyrell is on the verge of a glittering stage career.  </p><p>Her personal life is not so great as she's embroiled in a difficult betrothal to the loathsome Joffrey Baratheon and the threat of scandal surrounding her former husband Renly Baratheon, the disgraced and exiled Duke of the Stormlands and her adored brother Loras. </p><p>When she meets the dashing Prince Rupert of the Rhine and he sweeps her off her feet, things are going to get even more tangled as she must decide which path to take. There's no room for mistakes at this court but Margaery and Rupert cannot deny their own hearts either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Financial Problem

**Author's Note:**

> * This is the second part of Blossoms of the Court focusing on Margaery and Prince Rupert of the Rhine and their relationship. This is happening concurrently with 'Droit de Seigneur' if you're unsure about the timeline.
> 
> * There is quite an age gap between Rupert and Margaery. In this he is in his mid-forties and she is in her early twenties. No wonder Mace is exceedingly pressed about their relationship!
> 
> * The main stories in the series are vaguely based on people and relationships of the Restoration court. So for this story, I based it on Prince Rupert and his relationship with Peg Hughes, a famous actress of the period and contemporary of Nell Gywnne. Rupert and Peg had a long standing relationship living together as man and wife even though he didn't marry her. She had a daughter by him and he left her most of his worldly possessions.
> 
> * Frances Bard was his ex-mistress by this point. They broke up and although he provided for his son Dudley they had a rather conflicted relationship. Frances claimed that she had married Rupert morganatically, although he denied this vigorously.

At Court

The news that Margaery Tyrell was about to make her debut on the stage caught on like wildfire. Everyone was talking about her rather daring move and once more speculation was rampant about her. At the gambling tables, the ladies were avidly discussing the issue over a hand of Vingt-et-un. Cersei, Barbara presided over the table whilst Lysa Arryn, Anna-Maria Brudenell, and Mary Villiers Stuart rounded out the party.

"Would you credit it, but Maggie Tyrell's going on the stage?" Barbara pealed in wicked delight perusing one of the court woodcuts with a smirk. "How sweet is it to see the high and mighty fall-"

Cersei's lip curled as she heard the news from her erstwhile friend and foe. 

Renly's little wife had always been a frightful attention seeker since the day they'd met her. Flaunting her beauty and swift wit to any who paid her the slightest notice.  
Even more infuriatingly Rochester and his little coterie absolutely adored her and sung her praises, dedicating their plays and verses to the girl, sketching and painting her in all her glorious youthful bloom and hanging on her every sparkling bon mot. 

Most maddening of all she always seemed to escape the worst of the satirical brickbats; indeed Sir Carr Scrope was unfortunate enough to pen a couple of mildly unflattering verses about her in his disappointment at being rejected and was hammered by the rest of the wits for his temerity. They all leapt to defend her like her own personal troop of knights valiant.

"I hear Mace threatened to cut her off if she didn't commit to marrying your Joffrey. Now he's stopped her allowance and cut off her credit in town until he can bring her to heel." Mary Villiers cut in, proving just how well-informed she was about the news of the day. She seemed remarkably interested in the Tyrell girl.

“Well, what else can she do since Lord Renly has been exiled and shamed? The girl has got to make a living somehow, hasn’t she?” Barbara smirked.

“I hear Mace was so infuriated that she divorced Renly and deserted a duke that he threatened to disinherit her unless she accepted Joffrey."

"No wonder she has to work!”

The two grand ladies swopped vicious smiles sharp enough to wound, both of a malicious turn of mind.

“He ought to be ashamed of himself. Carrying on in that sinful fashion. And she must have no dignity either, though what choice does she have but to work?" Cersei wasted no time in digging the knife in about Renly and his disgrace.

“I did hear Renly Baratheon was a great frequenter of molly-houses... wasn’t there some sort of raid?” Barbara let the implication hang in the atmosphere like a pall of smoke.

"Aye?" Anna-Maria was like a rat after a piece of cheese at that tidbit of gossip.

Cersei sneered inwardly at that one. _You're only saying that because you never even had a chance of having him, as much as you tried it. Even Renly much as I despised him had that much sense at least!_

"Well, he was always unnatural. Even Robert used to say it to me." She contented herself with saying for the moment.

"I thought you didn't like Robert?" Barbara said mock sweetly. Her exotic eyes narrowed in a most malicious fashion. Cersei tried to hide her dislike of the other woman and her disapproval of her rival's positive delight in the misfortunes of others. _What a bitch she is!_

"I was married to him, for my sins, but he's gone now."

"What was the tale?" Anna-Maria urged, dying for more malicious gossip to spread.

"He was caught dallying with some gorgeous boy. High-born as well. His Majesty really couldn't ignore it then."

"Really?" Mall frowned. "However did you find all this out?"

"I have my sources..." Barbara replied with a smug smile.

“Such a shame! He was such a handsome man - so tall and gorgeous- you could drown in those blue eyes, couldn't you? So sweet and kind, he would have given you the shirt off his back. My husband Jon was very fond of the lad for Robert’s sake-” Lysa mentioned, not wanting to believe so much wrong of Renly.

"All the ladies-in-waiting adore him. Lady Betty still makes an absolute fool of herself over him." Mary said with an amused ripple of her cards.

“And to think he spends his time letting some sweet lad suck his cock. Degenerate isn't the word, really!" Barbara's lip curled as she drawled, looking to shock her friends.

"Barbara, is that really necessary? You talk so scandalous sometimes!" Lysa breathed, shocked by the coarseness of Lady Castlemaine's remark.

Barbara smirked. _What fun it was to scandalise Lysa Arryn! For all her bravado, and her faintly desperate attempts to keep pace with the racier element at court she was still very much pedestrian, for all her poorly concealed affair with Petyr Baelish and lavish spending. Gods, Lysa was such a goose!_

"Renly was hardly discreet and he was arrogant to think that he wouldn't get caught. I don't have the slightest shred of pity for him." Cersei said with a dismissive wrinkle of her nose.

Of course it helped that she had speeded matters along by passing on some pertinent information in all likelihood Renly's fortune and holding were extensive and once he had been denounced it was her good fortune that it had passed down to her and by extension Joffrey. She'd wanted Joffrey to be invested with the title of Duke of the Stormlands officially, but so far Charles had been fobbing them off. 

She had to wonder if he ever intended giving her son the title at all. She would not feel secure and safe until he did, and Renly’s disgrace was complete. 

* * *

I won't be discouraged no matter how hard it may be. Margaery knew that she was the subject for a great deal of malicious gossip from ladies jealous of her good fortune marrying Renly and rejoicing in the young couple's disgrace. The vultures were only too ready to descend once Renly had been sent from Court and she was caught in the slipstream, never mind that they were going to separate. She was damned if she did and damned if she didn't.

 _I won't let those catty jealous bitches get to me, no matter what._

She was glad that Leonette and Garlan were still at court to support her. She had her cousins Megga, Elinor and Alla Tyrell, poor sweet Lady Evelyn Ravensbourne and of course the Stark girls were touchingly loyal despite what they must have heard. Sansa wouldn't hear a word against her. But for every loyal friend she had, there were ten that whispered behind their hands; that excluded her from their gatherings; that blamed her for the breakdown of the marriage without ever hearing her side.

She held her chin up and refused to let them see just how their words hurt her. No one understands what truly happened in my brief marriage to Renly, not that it’s any of their business frankly!

* * *

The Tyrell Town House

Her father was waiting for her as she got in. She knew the look on his face. She wasn't going to able to put him off for much longer. By now he must had heard about the debacle at the musicale and Joffrey's crass behaviour, not to mention that blasted Meissen vase. 

Even he was the one who’d caused that scandal, she was getting blamed for his behaviour and she wasn’t even married to him yet!

Mace scowled at from under his brows. She felt like a schoolgirl being reproved by her septa once more. “I suppose you’d like to tell me the meaning of this latest farrago, would ye Margaery?”

“Joffrey was very much intoxicated when he turned up. I didn't invite him, not after last time and yet he and his cronies saw fit to make an appearance. I can hardly see how any of this is my fault!” she argued, immediately on the defensive.

He expected so much of her. He always had done and she had tried so hard to fall in with his plans to advance their House. When she had married Renly, her father had been utterly delighted that she had managed to ensnare one of the most eligible and youthful dukes on the scene. 

Since then she had been nothing but disappointment to him. Not only was he exceedingly critical of her divorce from Renly but he was scandalised by her regular salon (which admittedly could get rather risqué, but what else could be expected if the likes of Lord Rochester and Lord Buckhurst regularly attended?)

Margaery found that she quite liked them, charming rogues that they were and John Wilmot for all his boisterousness and casual rudeness was showing signs of immense literary talent which she was keen to encourage.

Now he had got this scheme in his head that she would retain the ducal title by marrying Joffrey Baratheon, as the word at court was that he would get the title, once Charles stripped it from Renly.

“Absolutely not.” he said flatly.

“But father!” she protested. _How could this be fair?_

“Joffrey Baratheon is one of the most eligible heirs in the country. I need not remind you of what a great match it would be.” Mace said, pompously drawing himself up. "Frankly, you are lucky you are getting another chance to regain your position."

“I really don’t see why you balk at the match. You can’t be holding a torch for Lord Renly still?”

"No!" Margaery said. "Renly is a dear friend."

Mace sniffed in a thoroughly disapproving manner. "I don't see why you couldn't have remained married to him then!"

"My lord, I did not do this on a whim. Renly and I could not have stayed married, no matter how fond I was of him." she said firmly, wishing to put a line underneath the subject for now.

Mace subsided, knowing that his daughter could be remarkably stubborn about the subject when she wished to be. _Very well, he would have to take special measures to ensure her compliance._

* * *

The Royal Exchange

It was most embarassing. Margaery knew her family were wealthy there was no way that her credit should be so depleted. Thank god, she had the sense to have dropped in to check the account before going on a spree, it would have been most humiliating to find out her lack of funds in the shop itself.

"Surely there must be some mistake. Please double check!" she said, her voice rising.

The clerk gave her a look, veering between embarrassed and haughty. Margaery stared him out, unintimidated by his airs. This was damned important!

"There's a written note from Lord Tyrell himself."

"What does it say?"

The clerk cleared his throat. After all, Lady Tyrell's family were esteemed customers of long standing and she had always been a loyal customer who rarely run up debts and paid her bills regularly. it was not his business to interfere in family disputes but Lord Tyrell's actions were a bit underhand to be honest. "I think we'd better do this privately, Lady Tyrell."

* * *

"I didn't think he would actually do it. Cut me off without even warning me!" Margaery said as they left the goldsmith's without success. No matter how persuasive she had been in trying to get her credit restored they wouldn't co-operate unless Mace himself rescinded the order.

Mace had cut off her access to her allowance, how long for she was not sure. If he was going to play dirty she was going to have to think of another solution. _He couldn't force her to marry Joffrey, not after the way that he behaved. How could he **want** Joffrey as a son-in-law?_

"I know it's there, but I can't access it." she seethed. "Gods, it's so frustrating! Ugh!"

"Can he do that?" Sansa asked. "Just cut you off on a whim?"

"He is my father and ostensibly in charge of me, he can do as he likes." Margaery's pretty face had a most sour look to it.

"There must be some other way of earning money without relying on him. I can't believe he would do that!" Sansa said with a sympathetic squeeze of her friend's hand.

"Neither can I. Stopping your allowance without even telling you is a bit extreme, just because you refuse to be rushed into marrying Joffrey." Eve said worriedly. "You know I can probably advance you some funds if you're desperate, Maggie. Nick is so rich he probably wouldn't notice a bit of extra expenditure."

"Thanks Evie, but no thanks for the moment. I'm going to have to deal with this myself."

Sansa and Eve both gave her a concerned look.

"Don't worry! I will come up with something, I always do. Even if Father doesn't like it!"

"What are you planning, Maggie?"

Margaery glanced at Eve, assessing her options. "Your Aunt Pippa's coming over in a matter of days, is she not?"

Eve looked wary. Her relationship with Pippa Foley, the beautiful dazzling diva of the French Stage was rather acrimonious. The older woman had struggled to forgive her niece for marrying her former lover Nicolas d'Argenteuil, and there was a rift between the two which was only just starting to heal.

"Aye, she is. She might be in the country as we speak."

"I think I'll take some advice from her." 

* * *

Margaery was having some trouble persuading her father of the necessity of her new employment. She would have thought that he would have been pleased she was earning her own way now that he had stopped her allowance.

"I have to make a living somehow and since I am notorious anyway, why not cash in on it? Why should I not benefit from the wagging of other people's tongues?"

Her father was not convinced. Mace Tyrell was rather self-important and he cared a lot about what other people might say. This was hardly what he had envisaged for his daughter. From young duchess to common player! The whole point of her betrothal to Joffrey Baratheon was to stop such prurient speculation in it’s tracks, not fan more scandal about Margaery!

“I think I have been a very indulgent father. Being on stage, it's little better than being a, well-" he spluttered to a halt.

"A whore, father?" there was a tartness in Margaery's sweet tone.

There was a mean small part of her that liked to see her father splutter with indignation. How dare he judge her? When he was the one who had driven her to such desperate straits?

"Now Margaery, there's no need to be like that. You know that it not what I said, dear-"

_No, but it's what you thought, do not even try to deny it, Father._

Even though he would never say it to her face, she knew that he inwardly blamed her for not being able to hold a young handsome eligible duke like Renly Baratheon. Never mind that he and her brother were deep in love and had been for years. _How could she get between soulmates?_

And as for making her marry Joffrey Baratheon instead, just so they wouldn't lose the claim to the dukedom, gaining access to their lands and allying with the powerful Lannisters. Would she ever forgive him for that? 

"I am a woman on my own, left to my own resources. How can anyone judge me for using the talents I have been given to my own best advantage?"

Margaery knew 'twas best to humour her father especially when he was in a querulous mood like this. _Grand-mere will talk to him later and talk him round. Impress on him the importance and benefits of her latest move._

"I know you and your grandmother will end up talking me round. You always do. God knows what-"

"It won't be for long, Father I promise. Just until things are straightened out with Renly."

I don't know why he had to disappear so suddenly with Loras in tow." her father grumbled. "Very well, do what you must, you'll just do it anyway!

Margaery sighed in a relief for a triumph, however small.

Mace never thought his favourite son could do any wrong. He would have been shocked and amazed at ever hearing the truth of the matter. There was no point in trying to hint or broach the subject with him.


	2. Tentative Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Margaery attempts to solve her financial problems herself, gets some pithy advice from an old hand and embarks on a new career. 
> 
> Meanwhile Prince Rupert is very much taken with Margaery and more than one person notices - including a lady very close to him and important to his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Ninon de L'Enclos is a famous Parisian courtesan of the period. And yes, she probably will be making an appearance at some point in this.
> 
> * There were two main theatrical companies operating in Restoration London: The King's Company headed by Thomas Killigrew and featuring Nell Gwynne, Catherine Corey, Charles Hart, Rebecca Marshall and Edward 'Ned' Kynaston, and the Duke's company.
> 
> * at this point opera was a novelty to the English stage, but some performers had started to come over lured by the patronage of Charles II. He enjoyed many of the innovations introduced to European courts like Louis XIV's.

Margaery met with Phillipa Foley after much to-and fro-ing. _Gods, how hard can it be to merely meet with a woman!_

She knew the diva was in high demand and could be rather capricious by nature. Although she was a family friend, she wasn't as close to her as she was to Eve. But she had the knowledge and expertise that Margaery needed, and the diva's assistance and goodwill would be essential to success on her new chosen career path. _If she could do it and in the midst of a war, then so can I!_

* * *

She entered the lavishly appointed guest rooms the diva had commandeered during her stay in the capital. Pippa was sat cross legged on the floor surrounded by a chaos of lavish silk gowns, fans, shoes, jewellery and accessories and manuscript paper. She was wearing a pair of wire-rimmed lenses balanced on the end of her nose frowning at some manuscript paper. It made her look like a surprisingly pretty bluestocking.

Margaery gave a cough to indicate she was there. At the sound, Pippa whipped off her lenses and visibly donned her pleasant public mask.

_Well, everyone's got to have their little vanities and while Pippa was still a remarkably beautiful woman she had to be quite a bit older than she admitted to in public._

"Maggie, darling!" She smiled."What brings you here so urgently? No one's meant to know I'm in the country yet!"

Margaery knew all too well. She'd had to borrow off Eve to persuade the diva's rapacious agent to cough up the information.

"I need your advice, Pippa." she said frankly, appealing to the older woman's good nature. "I was hoping to speak to you privately if I may?"

* * *

"So you're hoping to follow in my footsteps, are ye?" Pippa asked shrewdly after hearing Margaery out. "A bold move and a wee bit of a gamble, isn't it? D'ye know quite what you've let yourself in for?"

Margaery gave her a rueful little smile. "I don't have much of a choice, Pippa, to be honest with you. It's that or throw myself on the mercy of Damaris Page or Madam Cresswell, and I'd rather not just yet, thank you!"

Pippa chewed the end of her quill in thought, looking more of a bluestocking than ever. "Hmm, I can see your point, dear. You can do far better than that." The older woman gave her an appraising look. "Can I ask you a couple of personal questions? You can always say no, of course."

Margaery nodded to show she was not bothered. "Ask away, Pippa."

"What are you hoping to get out of this? Is it worth antagonizing your family over it? Because I might as well tell you now, your family won't like it."

Margaery nodded. She'd known it would be a risk, her father already showed signs of disapproval but what else was she meant to do? Options were limited for a woman of gentle birth in this society. If she was being forced to rely on her wits, then she would have to take the risk. "I don't have a choice, it's a matter of principle."

Pippa shook her hand and Margaery suspected that she wanted to tell her that in her position, she couldn't afford to have principles.

"It took years for Ormonde to bend his stiff neck and acknowledge me after I ran away to go on the stage. The sly auld bastard still can't look me in the eye properly even after all these years, aye, even now. He took it out on Evie as well and that wasn't right. Whatever sins Tom and I committed, the lass was innocent. Is that a price you're prepared to pay? You Tyrells are clannish, aren't ye? Could you walk away from them if you had to?"

"Walk away?"

"Aye. You have to be prepared to do this alone, if need be."

"I don't have much of a choice. It's this or bowing to my father's will and marrying Joffrey Baratheon, and I'm trying to delay that fate as long as possible."

Pippa started in surprise at her revelation. Margaery saw the look of what she could only describe as shock in her eyes, just a flash but it was enough. _What does Pippa know about my betrothed?_

"Your father is marrying you to HIM? Why? Does he owe him money?" she sounded horrified. "Margaery, no! You can't!" 

Margaery did not like the sound of this. She already disliked and distrusted Joffrey and knew more than a bit about his debaucheries. This was different. Pippa sounded genuinely appalled by the prospect.

"Joffrey is not a good man. You would be miserable with him!"

"I already am miserable with him, Pippa, and I am not even wed to him yet." Margaery said with undisguised bitterness. "And yet everyone insist I marry him, for he is my last chance for respectability. He hopes to get Renly's title from Charles, now that he's been banished." 

Pippa wrung her hands in agitation. "I am serious! You cannot, you must not marry that man! If you listen to no other part of the advice I've given you, then heed this. Don't do it!"

"You are deadly serious about this, aren't you Madame Foley?"

Pippa looked at her in consternation. "My dear girl, did they tell you nothing about Joffrey? Why Ninon de L'Enclos won't let him over the threshold of her salon, and neither would I? In fact I doubt there's a brothel in Paris that would accept his custom?"

"Why, what did he do?" Margaery pleaded. "Tell me the truth, Pippa. No one else will."

Pippa sighed deeply, not wanting to be involved but feeling obliged to enlighten the girl in front of her.

"There were two girls... in Paris...he beat them so badly that they had to be 'retired'. Do you understand me, Margaery?"

Margaery felt a chill going down her spine. _Joffrey did that? And her father wanted her to marry him?_

"It so happened that Ninon was able to save them, and I helped. The authorities wouldn't do anything about it, for he's wealthy and of a good family. It seems the House of Lannister is good for something still, eh? But we all know the truth, us courtesans, and we will not forget."

"When you say they were 'retired', does that mean?..." she didn't know if she could bring herself to say it. _Is Joffrey a murderer? Could she bear to live with him if he was?_

"They still live - though no thanks to him." she said tersely.

"Can I...do you think I could speak to one of these girls?" Margaery asked.

"You are prepared to do this? You want the truth?"

"I must know the man my father has sold me to."

Pippa sighed. "I can arrange it. But I fear you won't like the results."

Margaery arose to leave, conscious that the diva had told her all she could. "Thank you for your time, Pippa- and for telling me the truth."

Pippa rose, and kissed her on the cheek. "Dear girl, I'm sorry for giving you such bad news. I hope everything works out. I'll write you a letter of recommendation for the King's company- you'll advance faster there, I think, and you're easily a better singer than that Beck Marshall. Get your foot in the door there, and you'll thrive."

* * *

Drury Lane

 _I have everything to prove. I have to get the position, I simply must-_ , Margaery told herself as she met with the owner of the King's Company to persuade him to hire her. 

Tom Killigrew was a middle-aged ish man with shrewd eyes and an expensive periwig. He took a line of snuff offering her some from a gilded box but she refused, disliking the habit.

"So you want a position in the company. This is not just some jape. A dare between some court ladies? You truly do want to work for me? To perform in my company alongside my actresses?”

"No, ‘tis not. In truth I need the position." She decided honesty would be the best policy. A worldly man like Killigrew was bound to hear the gossip anyway. "I'm telling you this in confidence ser, you understand, but my father...well, he's cut me off, and I suspect I'll lose my position at Court soon. Hence the stage name."

Killigrew's brows raised in surprise.

"In short, I find myself in need of employment." she finished, giving him her most winning smile and hoping it worked.

"You are a attractive woman, I wonder why you didn't chance your luck with Madame Cresswell, or try and find a rich patron to pay your bills. I wouldn't imagine you'd have any trouble - a gorgeous little popsy like you?"

Margaery kept a serene confident mask on, and tried not to show how outraged she was by his leering suggestion she should sell her body to the highest bidder. 

"I have no intention of starving or selling my body, thank ye. Why not use the talents that I have?” she replied pleasantly, with just a hit of steel behind her tone.

"Really? A lass of ambition as well as beauty?" he leaned forward in interest, getting a good look at her cleavage. Margaery gritted her teeth and tried not to show impatience with his inappropriate ogling. _This is what I have to expect in my line of work now. To be eyed like a dish of fresh cooked bacon!_

He scanned the letter of recommendation once more. "La Seraphina seems to think a great deal of your voice."

"She was kind enough to say so." Margaery said sweetly, not dropping his gaze demurely like a proper maiden. She'd better make it clear from the start she was not some wagtail to be trifled with.

"You audition in front of the company on Thursday. Prepare two songs and a speech and bring your own accompanist. Let's see what you're made of, Miss Flowers?" 

* * *

The Tyrell town House

Margaery was at home and spending the day with her mother and grandmother engaged in fine needle-work and talking amongst themselves when the butler came the door and knocked respectfully.

“Whatever does he want?” Olenna frowned, dropping a stitch.

Alerie looked up from her stitching and set her embroidery hoop down. “Yes, Rowan, what is it?”

“There’s a lady to see the young mistress. She is most insistent that she wants to see Lady Margaery in private.” he intoned.

The three women looked curiously at each other at this rather unprecedented request.

“Did they say who they were?” Margaery asked.

“She left a card, m’lady.” He intoned, handing over a small vellum note.

“Who is it? Lady Alerie asked. “This is all rather cloak and dagger, Margaery dear?”

“What have you been up to now, dear?” Olenna said, peering over at the card.

“It’s Mary Villiers Stuart, Duchess of Richmond. But what could she want with me?” Margaery said. She knew the woman socially in a vague sense enough to greet her at a Court function, but they didn’t move in the same social milieu. Leonette knew her better due to her service with the Queen and her entourage.

_Why would she want to meet with me?_

"What do you suggest I do, Grand-mere? Mother?" she asked.

There was a cunning glint in Grand-mere Olenna's eye that Margaery knew all too well. It was a sure signal that she was up to no good. _Grand-mere never met a plot she didn't like. What was she up to now?_ thought Margaery.

"I think we should stay behind the arras and see what the Duchess of Richmond has to say to our Margaery, don't you?"

Alerie looked less convinced. "D'ye think that's wise?"

"We want to know what she wants with Margaery and she won't speak freely if we're here, will she? Are you up to this, Maggie?"

Margaery lifted her chin defiantly. She wasn’t about to let the likes of Mary Villiers intimidate her on her own territory. “I suppose I’m going to have to be. Show her in, Rowan.”

“Very good, my lady.”

* * *

Mary Villiers Stuart, Duchess of Richmond was still a handsome looking woman, confident in her beauty as befitted a woman brought up at court in the very heart of the royal family, her famously fiery curls darkened with age. Margaery didn’t quite know how to take her, or how to second-guess what she might want. For rest assured, the duchess had an ulterior motive. There was no way that she did not. 

“So you’re the girl…” there was a speculative gleam in her eyes as she looked Margaery up and down. Margaery felt as if she were being weighed in the balance. _This is not a social call._

“My Lady Richmond?” Margaery said politely, attempting to keep her serene lady-like mask on. She wasn’t about to allow a Villiers to get the better of her. For one moment she wondered whether George had sent his sister round to needle her after that meeting at Chatelin’s. She would not put it past either of them.

“-the girl who managed to captivate a Prince.” 

Margaery felt herself blush and chided herself at that momentary weakness.

_I have no need to feel guilty. I haven’t done anything wrong. What business is it of hers what we do?_

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you're referring to, Lady Richmond." she said lightly.

Mary's laugh was light and musical, utterly in contrast with her intent dark blue gaze. She shook her head, letting her dark auburn curls skim her pale bare shoulders.

"That dizzy little ingenue act really doesn't suit you, Margaery dear. Try again."

Margaery bristled with annoyance. Lady Richmond had a damned cheek , coming here insisting on seeing her and then implying all sorts. What business what was it of hers? "I don't know what right you have to come here and say these things. I bet you he doesn't even know you're here, does he?"

She felt a stab of triumph as she saw the truth of it. "He doesn't, does he?" 

"If you're looking for a wealthy older man in Rupert who's ready to pay your bills, then move on. But if you really care about the man behind the title- the maddening, brilliant, arrogant man, then maybe you might be the woman worthy of him."

"You sound as if you're half in love with him yourself!" Margaery said rather accusingly

Mary didn't reply at first , just smiled a small private smile to herself that struck Margaery to the heart. She does love him a little still, doesn't she? 

"He's a very good friend to me, even now. He'll be a good friend to you too as long as you don't abuse his trust. He doesn't need another Frances in his life." She rose gracefully and donned her cloak. "I've overstepped my mark a little but I had the sincerest of motives at heart. Think about what I said, will ye?"

* * *

Margaery knew that when her mother and Grand-mere Olenna emerged from the arras they would have much to say. They'll probably reprimand me for flirting with another man whilst I am engaged to Joffrey. But surprisingly they both seemed to be quite positive. Alerie had never liked Joffrey and his bad manners, and Grand-mere had a low opinion of 'those Lannisters' as she called them. 

So you and Prince Rupert, dear? You evidently made quite an impression!" her mother said.

"Sounds like he's been talking about you, Maggie. The man must be smitten." Grand-mere said, making her blush.

“It’s not a love affair,” Margaery said blushing like a maiden and feeling embarrassed at how vulnerable she felt at the subject, “Prince Rupert was kind to me that day on the barge, that’s all.”

She noticed a quirk of her grandmother’s narrow lips that told her she was not remotely fooled by Margaery’s words.

Hmm, is that why Lady Richmond felt the need to come round and read you the riot act?" she remarked. "You can't pull one over on me, not at my age!"

She couldn't really argue with that. "I don't really see how it was any business of hers to interrogate me in my own home. I bet he didn't even know she had come round." Margaery said crossly. "Interfering busybody Villiers!"

"It's not quite as simple as that, dear girl." her mother sighed, taking up her stitching.

Why not?" She frowned.

Her mother and Grand-mere Olenna exchanged glances, as if working out what to tell her. It was very strange to think of them keeping information from her."What? Don't keep me in suspense?"

"I'm afraid she would think it was her business unfortunately, darling. You see those two have history." Alerie squeezed her hand gently.

"History?" She found herself faltering. _Oh Gods, had Lady Richmond come round because she was jealous?_

"It was during the War. She was married to one of his best friends, James Stuart Duke of Richmond, a man he loved almost like a brother. But then he met her and they fell desperately, passionately in love with one another."

Margaery did not like the sound of this at all. _Mary had to be jealous. if she were completely honest, the thought of Rupert in love: heart-stopping, passionate, star-crossed love was a terrible wrench, even if it was years ago._

"No one knows the full truth of what happened, but it was the talk of the court and a great scandal once the Parliamentary broadsheets got hold of it. Charles I and Henrietta-Maria certainly did not approve!" Olenna remarked.

"And did he? Did they?..." Margaery asked. _Does he care for her, still?_

"As I said, no one knows the truth of it, but I am convinced it didn't end well at all. Rupert is a man of honour and would not willingly betray his best friend over a woman, but Mary and he were madly in love."

"Why did he never marry her, after the duke of Richmond died? If he was so in love with her?" She had to ask Margaery told herself. She needed to know. _Already this man is far too important to you!_

"How could he have married her? After the war, he had nothing. He was sailing the seas, harassing the Navy and engaged in piracy. He could hardly have married a duchess then, could he? Besides everyone gossiped about them and speculated whether he was her lover. He couldn't have had her then."

"If he's been talking to her about you, them he must be a lot more interested in you than you thought. They're still very close, despite everything. Some say he trusts her completely."

"She said something about he didn't need another Frances. Did she mean his mistress?"

Olenna sniffed scornfully. "Hs ex-mistress. Frances Bard. Pretty fair-haired lass, very amiable but no idea of how to handle him. She went round a couple of years ago claiming he married her secretly. He denied it of course. Caused a bit of a wedge. You should as him about it. Get the truth from the source."

Alerie nodded. "She got pregnant hoping that she could keep him, but the damage was done. He gave her a settlement, provided for the boy and paid her off." 

Margaery wondered whether she should follow her Grand-mere Olenna's advice. Would it not seem rather presumptuous to tackle Rupert about his relationship with Lady Richmond? And how did she feel about Frances and his son? He left the mother of his son! How could he do that? What if it happened to me?

_I mean, Rupert hasn't said anything to me yet. I know he wants me, but he's holding back what if he just wants to be friends? What if I'm making a fool of myself?_

* * *

St James's Palace

"What a fascinating girl the Tyrell maid is, don't you think?" Charles mused after supper which had been rather a success.

James and Rupert looked at each other, knowing the signs of the start of one of Charles's infatuations with a gorgeous woman. 

Rupert tried to hide his annoyance. Trust Charles to pull that kind of stunt especially when he could see how well they were getting on the barge. Normally he would dismiss it and focus his attention on his work at the Admiralty or one of his latest inventions and experiments but the lass had got under his skin. Those eyes of dark honey, that lovely kissable mouth, that lovely trim figure. Gods, what he wouldn't give to paint those tawny curls... So if the king was interested in her, why was he so keen to reconcile us on that barge? What is Charles up to?

"So pretty and talented, plucky too. Considering the mess between her and Baratheon. The girl has a knack for turning disaster into triumph." James observed. "She's a clever lass, smart as a whip. She'll do well for herself, no doubt, despite Baratheon's banishment."

Rupert was interested in Lady Tyrell, though he would have hesitated to admit it just yet. He had heard the rumours; hard not to when they were flying round the city and Whitehall, but he didn't know the truth of the matter.

Why had she requested an amicable annulment from Renly Baratheon just a couple of weeks before Charles had sent him from his court in disgrace? Renly was a charming boy, nothing like his famed elder brother Robert, but he must be a arrant fool to let a woman like Margaery go.

_The most gorgeous girl…_

_Don't be a fool, Rupert. She’s far too young and lovely to be interested in a grumpy old man like me. _he told himself sternly.__

_He had no doubt that the wits; those witty disrespectful boys she seemed to favour for her salon, Buckhurst and Sedley and Wilmot were all mocking him silently for his weakness towards her._

_If he had any sense he would forget about her entirely, but he found he just couldn’t. He found himself making excuses to cross her path at court and greet her, no matter how flimsy the pretext. Hoping and waiting just to see her smile._

_Gods, I’m like a love-struck boy!_

"Rupert!" the king and the duke were looking at him rather impatiently. 

"Sorry, what?" He was faintly embarrassed to be caught out mooning about a girl young enough to be his daughter. _I must get a grip!_

"We've been trying to get your attention for the last three minutes!" Charles told him with amused exasperation at his cousin. "What on earth were you day-dreaming about?"

Charles would just gloat if he knew, it was best to keep it to himself for now. "Nothing Sire, just wool-gathering." Rupert said, and firmly changed the subject. 

* * *

St James's Park

Just that afternoon, the court were milling in Hyde Park waiting for the king and the Duke of York to take their daily promenade with the usual pack of spaniels when he saw her with the elder Stark girl and that meddling busybody Betty Felton. Rochester and Buckhurst were hovering round them, trying to flirt with them, no doubt. He felt a remarkable urge to rescue her from that company. 

"Excuse me, just one moment-" he murmured to his cousin James who was walking besides him.

"Where are you going, Rupe? Oh..." James's voice tailed away as he spotted the very pretty reason for Rupert's sudden detour. Rupert saw his amused smirk, and glared at him.

" Not a bloody word, Jamie!" he mouthed at him.

James subsided, amused at Rupert's annoyance and the obvious favour he was showing towards the pretty girl. Evidently Charles's matchmaking had been most effective.

"Lady Margaery, do you have a moment?" the prince said with a courtly bow.

Her face lit up at the sound of his voice. She turned to him, eyes shining and sinking into a graceful curtsey.

"Your Grace, what a pleasure!" she took his proffered arm and glided away with him to talk privately. "You will excuse us, won't you boys?

"What's going on there?" Charles Sackville, Lord Buckhurst said frowning at this development in proceedings. 

Lady Margaery was leaning close to the prince, her face radiant and happy as she looked up at him.

"He smiled at her! Gods, I didn't think he knew how any more." Buckhurst muttered, still watching them talk. He couldn't tear his eyes away from them, watching her every move hungrily.

"Any minute his face is going to crack!" he sulked. "What does he want with a pretty girl like our Maggie anyway?"

John grinned, pleased to be needling his friend. "Bucky, I hate to say this, but you're starting to sound a bit jealous!"

Gods, he knew that would get Lady Betty's attention. The slightest whiff of gossip and she was there, long nose quivering like a greyhound before a race.

"Well, he did purposely seek her out, perhaps there's something in it?" mused the little maid-of-honour, the possibilities of more gossip dawning on her. "She's practically glowing as she speaks to him- and is that her hand on his coat?". Sure enough, Margaery's hand was absently stroking the dark mulberry velvet of the prince's coat. "Well, she did go on the royal barge that day with Lady Sansa, did she not? Maybe something happened there?"

"No, they just talked." Sansa joined in innocently.

" Is there something you'd like to tell us all, Buckster?" Rochester smirked, enjoying himself at his friend's expense.

Bucky scowled. "Go to hell, Rochester!"

* * *

When Margaery got back, Buckhurst had already gone.

"Where's Bucky?" she frowned. "I thought we were going to see Tyrion Lannister, and he went off without a word."

"Stomped off in a huff, forget him." Rochester said lightly.

Lady Betty was not so easily deflected from a prime source of gossip. She familiarly linked her arm through hers.

"When did you manage to become such close friends with the Prince Palatinate? He usually takes little notice of us, but he sought you out, didn't he? What was that all about?"

Margaery was starting to get irritated with just how nosy everyone at court was. Lady Betty really just could not let things be, Lady Richmond felt entitled to show up at her house making vague threats and sticking her nose into an ex-lover's business, and now Bucky was sulking like a schoolboy who'd lost his last sweetmeat just because she wanted to spend time with the prince. She liked Rupert! Why should she pretend she did not?

"Rupert and I are just friends, I really don't see what the problem is!" she said sharply.

Lady Betty looked at if Yuletide had just come twice in one year. Margaery could have kicked herself for giving her inner thoughts so easily.

"Rupert? Very familiar about the Prince, aren't ye?" she said, her blue eyes glinting with excitement. "So I take it there's some truth in the whisper you had a visit from Lady Richmond about him, then? How long has it been going on? Does Frances know? She will be vexed he's moving on-"

 _How the hell did she find that out!_ thought Margaery. _Lady Betty was out of control, she had to be stopped, before this went through the whole of St James's Palace._

"Now you just wait a-" she stared to say, before Rochester caught her by the arm and guided her firmly away from the rest of the group.

"Why did you do that, Johnny, I was about to give her a piece of my mind!" she grouched.

He grinned her at her cheekily, trying to chivvy her out of her bad mood. "Which is why I dragged you away before you lost your temper, love. Betty Felton is harmless compared to the rest of them, just bored and garrulous. There's no need to shout at her."

"That woman is a menace. She is so blasted nosy about everything, and of course she can't keep her mouth closed. This is going to be all over the palace by sundown! As if those crows don't caw enough about me already!"

Rochester let her rant for a moment, before he added quietly, "Bucky took off because he's got it into his head you're flirting with the prince, and the daft bugger won't admit he's sore about it. You did seem quite close-"

"Bucky?" Margaery sounded genuinely surprised. She shook her head. "There's nothing between us, it was always just a bit of fun between friends. He stormed off because of that?"

Rochester nodded.

"Ugh!" she muttered. "Men!"

"We're not all bad, Maggie." he protested, before stopping and giving her a searching knowing look. "He's not being completely daft though, is he? You are interested in the Prince and he is in you. Is that true?"

She didn't meet his eye for a moment. 

"Come Maggie, no secrets-" he coaxed.

"Would it be so bad if...if I was?" she said in a small voice, looking at him pleadingly.

He knew it then, of course she was, even Betty had seen it. Her pale hand stroking the fine velvet of Rupert's coat, as if she badly wanted to touch him and could not stop herself. The way she lit up at the sound of his voice. Her smile as she looked up at him towering over her. The older man was in no way immune to her either, though the mind boggled at the thought of the stern warrior turned to thoughts of love and courting. John would've almost mocked it, although he wasn't quite sure if he'd dare just yet, frankly.

"You daft minx, you're head over heels aren't ye? How the hell did this happen?"

Rochester's voice sounded almost sympathetic. Margaery's lip turned up sadly as if she didn't want his pity, not about this. "I can handle this, I'm sure of it. It'll probably come to nothing anyway. Rupert was just being kind, that's all. It's just a little silly infatuation, over in a week. He probably would never even think of me like that."

"I have no doubt of it, Maggie darling. Just remember to be careful-" his light jesting voice turned serious as he watched the prince's departing back. "He's got baggage."

Margaery was still watching the Prince and the Duke of York with a wistful air. He couldn't help but wonder just how serious it was between them. "So have I, Johnny."

* * *

Rochester could see there was going to be trouble in the offing very soon.  


Joffrey Baratheon was still on the scene. That horrendous little punk was engaged to her, despite his wenching and whoring. His own friend Bucky was not exactly indifferent to the girl, even though both would swear it was nothing serious, just a little sweet dalliance -mere friends with benefits, perhaps- and now Prince Rupert was showing definite interest and Margaery was not exactly fending him off either.

He hadn't seen her so attentive and adoring over another man since she was being courted by Renly.  


They'd seemed such a sickeningly loving couple, perfect for each other. She still swore blind that Renly was her very best friend in the world and she would not hear a word against him, even though Margaery had insisted there was no way she could stay married to him.

He wondered what had happened between them, although John knew there was no way she would ever tell.

_Mark my words, there will be nothing but trouble!_


	3. On the Stage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margaery auditions for a place in the King's company, has a royal visitor leading to a meeting with Mace Tyrell which does go as well as expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly don't if anyone is reading this, so please comment if you have and enjoy it.

Margaery had to admit to having a little trepidation as she turned up for the audition. She knew she had everything to prove. This was the first time she had met the other girls in the company, put her skills put for public scrutiny and if they didn't accept her, things were going to be difficult. 

_It's this, or Madam Cresswell's. I must not forget what is at stake right now. I have to prove myself to the company and convince them to hire me. So how do I charm them and win them over?_

All the same, she was not going to be a push-over. Allowing them to take advantage of her would not help at all.

_If only she hadn't been forced to take such a measure in the first place!_

\----

She arrived in the auditorium to find a man at the keyboard. She handed him her music, trying to stop her hands from shaking. 

_I must show no fear, not today!_

A girl with dark snapping eyes and wiry dark curls looked her up and down as she were the high-born maid and Margaery was the commoner.

I see I'm going to have to put this one in her place, or my life is going to be a misery.

Killigrew smirked at her as she entered, eyeing her figure blatantly. She wondered whether he thought she would not have the guts to follow through, that his little interview would have scared her off. _Small chance of that, I don’t scare easily. Not when I need this so._

“Ah company I don't think you've all met our new Clarinda. This is Margaery Rose-"

He was going to make her audition in front of the company. Talk about a baptism of fire. Was she ready for this?

"-Flowers." she interjected, with a confidence she barely felt. Although it was soon going to be obvious who she really was, the very least she could do was use a stage name.

"Ah, a Highgarden lass." Killigrew gave her an appreciative look ogling the swell of her bosom over the low scooped neckline of her bodice. The man next to him, who looked like a younger version of him must be his son. He was even less subtle about eyeing her charms than his father.

"This is Charles Hart-" he pointed at a handsome lordly looking man, more supercilious than most of the men at court. His every mannerism seemed to the manor born. The regal set of his head, his haughty glance was calculated to inspire awe. Margaery could not help but remember spending time with all three royal men on the King’s barge that day. He acts as regal as the King and the Duke of York!

She bobbed her most respectful and elegant curtsey, correctly coming to the conclusion that Charles Hart was the star of the company and had much power if Killigrew was allowing him to be present at her audition.

"Ned Kynaston, one of our most experienced actors. If we engage you, he will be responsible for teaching you deportment and stagecraft. What Ned doesn’t know about the stage could probably fit on the back of one of Cooper’s miniatures.”

Margaery was hard put to it not to make a retort. She doubted very much she needed to be schooled in how to be a lady, not with the rigorous upbringing of Grand-mere Olenna. 

_Ah, but they don’t know who you really are, Margaery._ She thought ruefully. _To them, you’re just a girl wanting to go on the stage and make her fortune, not a fine lady who once was on course to be a duchess._

“This is our leading lady, Rebecca Marshall.” He gestured at the dark haired girl, who gave her an evil look, most unwelcoming and hostile.

“And our newest comedic signing, Nell Gwynne.”

A petite pretty girl with chestnut curls and merry hazel eyes greeted Margaery with a friendly smile. Her hand was seized in an enthusiastic handshake.

“Are you ready?”

Her chin went up. Never let it be said that she was not ready for a challenge!

* * *

Margaery handed the accompanist her music. All the hours she had spent rehearsing with Sansa and Eve going over the melodies over and over again until they were second nature, as fluent as breathing. The sweetness of her voice like honey from the first honeycombs of spring. The slight husky haunting undertone that drew listeners in, almost despite themselves. She sung as well as she ever had, rising to the occasion.

Margaery was pleased to hear applause from the other people in the room. Beck Marshall sat there stonily, grinding her teeth. Margaery could see her jaw working tightly, the dark hostile glare she directed at her. She's afraid I'm going to be a rival to her. She remembered that Pippa had off-handedly mentioned that she was a better singer than the actress.

"Marvellous, my dear." Ned Kynaston said generously descending on her in a cloud of scent and satin. "Such potential! I can't wait to get my hands on her!"

"Not bad," was all he said, after she had finished her air. Margaery was torn between feeling pleased that he hadn't dismissed her out of hand as some dizzy untalented dilettante who was wasting his time and aggravated by his frankly lustful gaze.

"This life is no game, Mistress Tyrell, you'll be paid modest and it is damnable hard work." He warned.

Even though he sounded reluctant, Margaery knew that she had him exactly where she wanted him, at least until she started with the company. Relief flooded through her that her gamble had paid off and she looked forward to the challenge.

"Roles flung at you constantly. New roles and dances to be polished all the time. And the audiences, they're a tough crowd. This is no life for a shrinking violet, m'dear." he warned. "This isn't a charity, and I haven't the space for lame ducks!"

"I'm not afraid of hard work, ser-" she said firmly.

"Always in the public eye, under scrutiny-"

_As if that was meant to dissuade her. She'd spent most of her short marriage under scrutiny constantly speculated and talked about. That was certainly nothing new!_

"Just give me a chance to perform and I assure you I will bring in the punters. You can judge me by my results. What do you risk?" She looked him boldly in the eye. _Faint heart ne'er won anything._

"Oh don't worry Miss Flowers, I will.”

She blinked, not sure if the gamble had paid off.

“Go on, go to the pit and introduce yourself to the rest of the team before I come to my senses and change my mind." he grumbled. 

"Get the stage dressed for Act Two scene three and let's see how this fits." Killigrew addressed the stagehands, who had crept in to hear her perform and now loitered, taking a good look at the new girl. "Get back to work, you buggers, we've got a show to put on!"

* * *

"I'm Nell, 'tis a pleasure to meet yer. Lovely bit of cloth this is." she let herself in and looked around Margaery's cubbyhole. "Yer lucky to get a bit o' yer own space, love. Space is scarce round 'ere, especially for a new girl.”

Margaery started to smile, pleased by the girl's friendly approach. After the distrustful glances of the others and Beck Marshall's open hostility, she really appreciated some positive attention.

"Thank you." She smiled at her. “Please come in.”

The girl frowned at her. "yer look a bit peaky, luv. What's the matter? You ain’t nervous, are ye?"

Margaery found herself wanting to confide in Nell. "I'm just really worried about whether the company will accept me permanently. It might not sound very sophisticated but I really need this job and I'm not exactly qualified to do anything else."

“You think you didn’t get the job fair and square?” Nell said, “They’ve given yer a cubby of yer own, they don’t do that for just anyone?”

Margaery groaned, thinking about how she had messed up, the disdainful look on Beck Marshall’s face as she’d stumbled with the changing metre of the improvised scene. “I made a pig’s ear of the improvisation. Killigrew’s going to sling me out on my ear and send me to Cresswell’s instead.”

“Goody Cresswell? Yer way too good fer that, luv!” Nell gave her a comforting nudge of her elbow. “Stop faffing about nothing, lass.

“But I failed the test?” she said feeling most unsure. “What happens if I get on stage and freeze?”

Nell gave an unconcerned shrug. “Everyone does. I’ve never known anyone to get it right.”

“What?” Margaery blinked in surprise. _So she’d been humiliated for no reason whatsoever?_

“It’s rare if ever that they’ll change metre in the middle of an improvised scene, it’d trip any bugger up.”

“So I needn’t have worried?” Margaery said with a dubious frown.

Nell’s grin widened. “I told yer, they do it on purpose. Everyone makes a hash of it, even I did. Damn, I still have to learn all me parts by ear.”

“Oh.” Margaery was puzzled why Nell had told her that.

“Can’t read, can I?” Nell said with a cheerful grin. 

Margaery was quietly impressed. Nell seemed to manage very well retaining four or five major parts a season, purely by memory. All those intricate dance steps, the prologue and epilogues which were her specialty laden with wit and word-play, and she learned them all by rote?.

“Yer dancing and singing were top-notch, you’ve obviously been trained well, for years probably. Italian, I would say. Proper tutoring. Johnny Dryden was in ecstasies about your voice, but then since La Serfina recommended yer, Hart and I knew yer’d be good.”

"How did you work out?-" Margaery started to say, before realising that Nell was as smart as whip and she shouldn’t be surprised that she’d worked out her secret identity in a trice.

Nell gave her a knowing worldly wise smile which sat oddly on her pert youthful face.

"Calling yerself 'Flowers' wi' a face like that fooled no one, luv. Yer obviously to the manner born, ain't ye?" Nell gave her a shrewd glance as if assessing her from head to feet. "-definitely a Highgarden lass, ain’t yer. A Tyrell of Highgarden, perhaps?"

"You worked it out so quickly!”

Nell's grin widened. "We 'ad a bunch o' military lads in during the 'King of Madasgascar' run. All of them were hanging round backstage making a damn nuisance of themselves even though they were handsome buggers. Robb Stark and his red hair, proper dasher ‘e was-“

"-I'm friends with his sisters!" exclaimed Margaery, pleased to find a common point of reference with her new friend. “Sansa and Arya. Lovely girls. Really friendly and kind.”

"-That blasted Theon Greyjoy with 'is wandering hands and Iron-born accent." Nell shook her head. "-and a young lad with honey gold eyes and curls like yours. Real polite but distant. Loras Tyrell."

"You know Loras? My brother?"

"A bit. Occasionally came in with the most gorgeous man. Tall with dark hair-"

"-and greenish-blue eyes. That's Renly."

Nell looked a bit surprised. "You know him?"

"Aye, he er...was my husband. Once." Margaery flushed. "I'm still very fond of him, despite his misfortunes."

Nell shook her head, muttering an oath under her breath. "Gods, men are dogs, aren't they?"

"Why do you say that?"

Nell heaved a sigh. "I saw them backstage on closing night. In a dark corner wrapped round each other like lovers. Hart and I wouldn't say anything, but it ain't exactly discreet, is it?"

Margaery was inclined to agree. "No, I can't argue with that."

* * *

"What if I'm making a mistake? How could I ever have thought that I could do this?" Margaery wailed. "My hair is a frizzy mess! My makeup is a fright! What if I can't fit into this costume?”

Sansa smiled serenely as she reassured and comforted her friend. "Of course you can. Haven't you told me a thousand times that you were born to do this? Stop fretting, love, you'll make yourself ill."

"How can you be so calm?"

"I have utter faith in you and so does Willas-" her blush deepened prettily on the tops of her high cheekbones. “He's in the audience he asked me to break a foot or whatever you say for the stage instead of wishing someone luck.”

Margaery was amused at how transparent she was. Sansa was interested in her brother- she knew it although neither would admit it just yet it was only a matter of time.

“He told you all this, did he?”

“You have that match-making gleam in your eye, I know you-“ laughed Sansa. “We both want the best for you. I think you're immensely brave to follow your dream. You mustn't let these women grind you down. Who cares what they think?”

"You're going to go onto that stage and dazzle them like I know you can do. Once they hear you perform they're all going to love you. And you have supporters. Theon and his friends said they were all going to come and support you. They all like you.” Sansa said fervently.

Margaery felt a little bit better. At least Johnny and the boys hadn’t let her down. If the worst came to the worst, she might need someone partisan in her corner. 

“You ready?” Nell poked her head through the door impatiently. “Act One call. Hart will have kittens if yer late, luv!”

“I’d better go.” Margaery said with one last hug for Sansa and Eve. “Cross your fingers for me, girls. I need all the damn luck I can catch tonight.”

* * *

Margaery made her way back to the tiring-room laden with bouquets. She could still hear the roar of the crowd in her ears.

I did it.

“Well done!” Nell Gwynne as generous of heart and spirit made a point of saying. "I didn't know how you'd do on the night but you proved yourself. I'll have to look to me laurels, will I not?"

“Beck Marshall looks sour enough to spit she does. The king didn't even arrive in time for her part and I swear he looked bored during her Act 4 soliloquy. He was talking to the Prince and the Duke of York quite blatantly.”

"I think you're going to be a huge success. Tom Killigrew tells me that most of the performances have sold out. And everyone humming that air of yours. Give it a week on the’ Change, and it’ll be a hit!"

"It seems that being notorious has something to recommend it." Beck Marshall sniped, her dark eyes flashing.

"You'd better work on that then, hadn't you, Beck!" Nell said smartly.

Margaery appreciated the other girl's loyalty and swift tongue. "Thank you. You did not have to stick up for me, and yet you did." She said as soon as Beck had swept out with her nose in the air.

"Ah well, I don't approve of using new girls as target practice. You did good, and that's what matters." 

"But isn't it unwise to make an enemy of her , if she's the leading lady of the company?" Margaery asked.

"Ignore her, she's jealous. Has been ever since the rehearsals." Nell said cheerfully. "Don't let her get to you."

Margaery started to smile, reassured by the other girl's friendly tones. "I won't."

Nell winked at her, her high spirits irrepressible. "That's the spirit, lass! I knew you 'ad gumption."  
\----  


There was a knock on the door and Killigrew poked his head round excitedly.

"You've got visitors-" As soon as they saw the new comers Nell and Margaery stood and sank into graceful curtsies. "Your Graces, this is a supreme honour. His Majesty and Prince Rupert! We are doubly blessed!"

Charles gave Nell a winning smile eyeing her up most lasciviously. His dark gaze seemed riveted to her cleavage. Margaery felt a bit like she might as well not be there.

"I hope you liked our humble performance, Sire." Nell murmured with a demure light in her eyes, peeping up at him from underneath her lashes. Gods, he certainly does have something about him, doesn't he? Even Nell is taken with him. She liked Charles a great deal, but for some reason she didn’t feel the same heady attraction at most women at court did.

"I certainly did. You are a woman of many talents, Madam Nelly and a jewel of our stage.” he eyed her up with intent and why did she suspect that he was no way talking about her friend’s performance on stage? 

“Yer too kind, your Majesty.” Nell dimpled with pleasure.

Nell gazed up at him once more and met his stare. He was unmistakably undressing her with his eyes, promising a whole host of amorous delights if she were bold enough to take the plunge.

Margaery felt it might be a good time to remind the distracted king of her presence before his flirtation with her friend progressed any further. She cleared her throat discreetly.

He turned to Margaery and smiled, transforming his heavy dark face into radiance. “My dear girl. You’ve done well.”

She beamed at the praise from the king. “You’re very kind, your Majesty.” Margaery dipped into her most elegant curtsey.

I knew you'd be smart enough to find a solution to your problem, m'dear."

She let him kiss her hand, his neat mustache tickling her slightly.

“Rupert insisted on coming to see you tonight. He was most taken with your singing.” Charles said smoothly as ever. “In fact he was rather intent on speaking to you alone. Come Madam Nelly, let’s depart and leave them to it.” The two of them departed from the dressing room, leaving her alone with Rupert.

* * *

“You came to see me perform, your Grace?” She turned to smile at the Prince, pleased beyond measure he would have come to see her sing. “You liked it, Ser?”

"You have a beautiful voice indeed. Most sweet and haunting-" 

She turned to see Prince Rupert, dark and brooding in wine- red velvet trimmed with silver on his deep cuffs. His intense steely-eyed gaze and sternly carved yet still handsome features made her wonder if he really approved of her. And then he smiled at her, that rare, slow hard-won smile melting the slightly severe air he had and making him look rather mischievous and charming.

All of a sudden she could see why men would risk their lives to follow him into battle, why the men who served under him practically worshipped him as a god amongst men. 

_I think I’d follow him anywhere given half a chance,_ she thought irrationally.

"Your Grace! I am very pleased to see you. Did you enjoy the play?" She said finding her tongue and her manners at last. She could feel that she was blushing slightly.

"Well done, my lady. I imagine after all things considered it must have taken a great deal of courage to take to the stage but you acquitted yourself most well." 

"You don't think that it was improper?" she looked up at him, looking for approval. "For a high-born lady to be forced to work for a living?"

His dark brows drew together in a frown, making him look forbidding but Margaery was quickly starting to learn that behind the stern exterior if Rupert actually liked you as a person he was a bit of a pussy cat. "Improper? Why would it be improper?"

She wondered at his self-assurance and complete disregard for what others thought of him. 

_What must it be like to live like that unencumbered by the opinions of others?_

She thought it must be quite liberating.

"Well, 'tis hardly the done thing, is it?" She said. "Taking to the stage and performing for a living. I imagine I must be the scandal of Whitehall."

"You did what you had to. What else did they expect after your father...well, I suppose I shouldn't talk of it. Is he still being difficult?" he asked in concern.

She blushed gently once more, pleased by his words of praise and surprised by his concern for her. For all his terseness he did care, and he followed up any issues to make sure they were resolved. She could imagine him being like that as an army officer - sharp, strict and demanding, but the type who knew the name and business of practically every private and lieutenant in his ranks.

“Aye, your Grace, but now I have this job I think I can manage now.” She said. "I have to prove that I can make it by my own effort and he cannot force me into a match with Joffrey."

"He's still trying that, is he?"

She nodded.

"Shall I speak with him?" he urged.

She blinked at him. "My father? You would speak to him, for me?"

"I won't do it unless you would wish." He assured her. His hand squeezed hers imparting comfort and Margaery felt a surge of warmth. She didn't want him to let go. Touching him, however innocently made her feel like a giddy girl.

"I just don't like the thought of you struggling when there is no need." He told her.

"Why would you put yourself out for me?"

"Why not?" he fired back, just as bluntly.

"I'm just a disgraced maid who ought to be grateful her family accepted her back into the fold and are taking pains to get her a suitable match after her disaster of a marriage."

"I don't believe that. Do you?"

“No, ser-“ she said softly.

"And yet you don't want to marry him, I take it?"

She shook her head.

"You have reason to believe that Joffrey isn't a good match." _How did he see her fears so easily and understand them?_ She was surprised at the understanding between them, even though at first glance they were two people who should have little to nothing in common.

"That's why you are delaying the match, why you seek any reason to postpone the wedding."

"Is that what I'm doing?" She challenged him right back. “That I’m not just courting notoriety and scandal?”

“I think you are.” He said gazing at her thoughtfully. “I suspect you know, or have been told terrible things about the lad, and now you are having second thoughts.” The corner of his mouth turned up just a little. “Am I right, my lady?”

"Yes, ser. But I have no proof. Only rumours." She said frankly. “Can I reject a good match on a rumour, no matter how I trust the source?”

“May I ask what did you hear to change your mind so firmly?”

She looked up at him wondering if she could trust him to help her. Pippa’s warning rang in her head. _Those girls that had to be ‘retired’ after Joffrey had finished with them._

“There’s talk that he hurt women in Paris. He ruined them.”

There was a sharp intake of breath from the prince as she admitted the truth.

“And yet my father is determined to marry me to him for the title, and he won’t listen.” Her voice broke a little. She felt choked up by the tears which threatened to spill over.

“I don’t know how to stop this. How long can I evade his suit?”

“Seven Hells, you think he might hurt you?” he exclaimed, his voice sharp with anxiety. “Look at me, Margaery, do you think Joffrey would hurt you if you wed?”

Margaery looked up at him, willing him to understand her predicament. Slowly, she nodded once more.

She drew a deep painful breath, willing herself not to burst into tears about the whole horrible situation, how much pressure she felt under to try and maintain her independence and the risk to her reputation and standing at court. 

He stepped towards her and enfolded her in his arms, holding her close. “God forbid, my lady he should ever hurt you.” She heard him murmur above low, fervent and husky. “No one should e’er hurt you.”

She revelled in the strength of his arms, the comforting scent of his spicy cologne- oranges, cinnamon and cloves. She resisted an urge to bury her nose into the velvet of his coat, lean against the hard strength of his broad shoulder and chest. She nodded, nuzzling into him. 

“What I hear frightens me, and I trust my source. Pippa Foley wouldn’t lie to me.”

His hand stroked down her back, gentling her. “Your source, I take it?”

“Aye ser, she’s an old family friend.”

He nodded. “Aye Ormonde is an old comrade of mine, and I once knew Pippa as a young woman very well. They’re a good loyal clan, and steadfast friends.”

“ I know what Joffrey gets up in town, but this is a great deal more serious. Once I am wed to him there’s nothing to be done.”

“Your father must see reason." Rupert fretted. 

“You don’t think he’s a good sensible match? I should just accept my fate.”

"I see the way he behaves at court, the escapades he gets up to with Jemmy." he shook his head, his mouth in a disapproving line. “Joffrey is a disgraceful influence on the lad.”

She was surprised at his forthright opinion on her fiance.

"Jemmy is weak and easy led, and every time the lad gets into trouble, who is right by his side?” It was clear he had his own suspicions of Joffrey’s behaviour, which her admission had only corroborated.

“ I've mentioned it to his father, but Charles feels as he's Cersei's son he feels obligated to give him a place at court, however small.”

“Why?” Margaery asked. “If you’ll forgive me for saying but Charles isn’t Joffrey’s father. What obligation does he have to support him?” 

“Charles does it for Jemmy and Cersei. He will deny Jemmy nothing, since his eldest son desires a bosom friend. He can hardly deny him that after the rackety childhood he had. I just wish for my nephew’s sake that he hadn’t chosen Joffrey Baratheon."

"So you don't think I'm a fool to resist his suit so fervently?"

"No." Rupert's jaw tightened at the thought of Joffrey giving Margaery a hard time. "It's not really my place to express an opinion but I think marrying a boy like that would make you very unhappy. He’s making you unhappy now, isn’t he?"

She nodded.

"I just don't want to see you miserable." his dark eyes were serious and intent on her face.

"Thank you, ser. For listening to my fears and not dismissing them."

“I should- I should like to talk to you again. Somewhere nice and quiet, and more civilised. Would you join your humble servant for dinner with my cousins and I?” he asked. “- Of course, if you need a chaperone, that would be perfectly acceptable.”

A smile curved her mouth. Despite the gap in their ages she was really starting to like the Prince, and want to spend time with him. Apart her own embarrassing crush on him that had developed and she would have never admitted to in public, she wanted well... to be his friend. 

_I'm starting to understand what Mary Villiers Stuart tried to tell me when she visited me, about caring for the man instead of his position. Behind the fearsome stern exterior, he’s a good loyal man. A gentleman in an age of rakes and rogues._

“I should like that very much, your Grace.” She smiled as she looked up at him.

"I must catch up with Charles before he slopes off on a debauched revel, I know him too damned well. So for now this must be farewell." he bent over her hand and looked up at her, holding her gaze.

"For what it's worth I would be very saddened if you were forced to leave court.” His fingers gently stroked down her cheek. “I'm sure that there is something that can be done."

Despite herself she couldn’t help feeling a surge of hope. The thought that there was someone in her corner, someone who believed she was right to delay her match to Joffrey, and someone who listened to her fears was more important to her than she had realised.

Nell brushed past the Prince, who raised his plumed hat to her and went on his way. Margaery could feel that she was blushing furiously. 

Nell gave her a speculative look, despite the fact that she looked quite rumpled herself. Her mouth was all pink and swollen with kisses.

"So what Old Longshanks want with ye? Charles, I mean, his Highness," she had the grace to blush a little herself. "- he insisted that he wanted to see you alone."

"Prince Rupert is a friend of mine. He was concerned about my welfare."

Nell's eyebrow raised a little skeptically, but she said nothing for now.

"He invited me for dinner - with a chaperone, of course. I wondered if you'd like to come. 

Nell looked at Margaery in awe. "That never happens!"

"I mean we get the occasional visit but an invitation to the palace! The king and the Prince Palatinate visiting you tonight! You, my lady Maggie, are a hit!" Nell crowed.

* * *

The Green Lyon, Westminister

Mace Tyrell was settled in his regular coffee-house, the Green Lyon, taking a dish of tea and meeting and greeting friends and accquaintances. He felt extremely disgruntled about things, despite the fact that he was obliged to put a pleasant face on in public.

His daughter was refusing to fall into line and marry Joffrey Baratheon and regain that ducal title. No matter what pressure he put on her to accept the lad and repair her soiled reputation before it was too late, she prevaricated and made excuses, even seeing fit to defy him when he had lost patience and cut off her allowance. 

Now the rumour was around town was she had gained employment as an actress in Tom Killigrew's company and was intent on making a public debut in the near future. Worse, tongues wagged that she was about to leave court to do so! His daughter, the pride and joy of Highgarden reduced to no more than a common player!

_That girl was a trial!_

Personally Mace was inclined to blame the indulgence of her mother and grandmother, and that ghastly crew of friends she gathered round her: wastrels like Tyrion Lannister, Lord Sedley, Lord Rochester that drunken insolent pup and worst of all Charles Sackville, Lord Buckhurst. He suspected that one was up to no good; he did not like his manner towards his girl, which was far too possessive and proprietary. Mace had to restrain himself from horsewhipping the lord out of his house whenever he saw him.

Lord Arryn was heading towards his regular table with George Monck, Lord Abermarle, and Edward Montagu, Lord Sandwich. _They must be having a Admiralty meeting,_ thought Mace, aware that war with the Dutch was very close.

"Lord Tyrell, I was hoping we'd meet," Monck said greeting him genially. "Wasn't I just saying this is the man I wanted to see?" he turned to Lord Arryn in appeal.

"Aye, he was."

"How can I help your lordships?" Mace greeted them aware of how high in the King's favour the three men stood. It could do no harm to network.

"Well, actually it was the Prince who was keen to speak with you- in confidence you see. We told him this is your usual haunt."

"He and his man are in town today, so the likelihood is that he'll appear."

Mace was more than a little apprehensive. The Prince was a familiar if formidable figure around Charles II's glamorous and frivolous court, his sombre demeanour and dark saturnine looks, his famous arrogance and temper making him someone not to be crossed.

"What does he want with me?" Mace fidgeted. "Come sers; leave me not in suspense if you know?"

Monck and Montagu exchanged a look as if they weren't quite sure how to broach the subject.

"Well, actually, I suspect it might have something to do with your girl." Monck said, sounding a bit awkward.

Mace was at a loss. "Margaery?" his mouth gaped open a bit in surprise.

Monck nodded, half draining his dish of tea in one gulp. "Aye, Lord Tyrell, He was most intent on speaking with you.”

"What does he want with my girl?" Mace asked. _How does he even know her? I thought he cared for nothing but Admiralty work now._

Montagu shifted uncomfortably. "Did you not hear of how they met on the royal barge?"

"No?" Mace was starting to be a bit disconcerted. _The girl was surely keeping secrets. Secretly hobnobbing with Royalty. Meeting on the royal barge? And now the prince was championing her. What was going on?_

"They meet in St James's Park, in town. He'll drop anything to see her and go to her." Montagu said with a rather indiscreet edge. "They'll slope off together for minutes at a time and heavens knows what they find to talk about so intently but they're thick as thieves, aren't they?"

"Come Ned, I'm sure there's nothing to it. You know Rupert just wants to help her. Maybe he heard she was in er-" he hesitated to finish his sentence, his plain honest face all embarrassed and awkward. Lord Tyrell's conflict with his bold wayward daughter was another widespread scandal, but Monck did not want to stir things up,"-in difficulties."

 

Despite Monck's reassuring words, Mace couldn't help thinking on Edward Montagu's words, so troubling, yet casually thrown out. _They'll slope off?_ He didn't like these sure signs of intimacy.

_Just what was it between these two? What can a man old enough to be his contemporary **want** with his Margaery?_

"Oh yes," Montagu said most disingenuously. "He's showing definite signs of interest in her; I'd keep an eye out if I were you."

Monck was frowning at his friend, murmuring "Ned, you go too far, really-" but Montagu carried on.

"He's interested in her, you say?" Mace questioned him. "This isn't just tattle?"

Montagu shrugged, while Monck just looked very disapproving of all this gossip about a colleague.

"I don't know if I would approve of it if I were you. After all, your girl is meant to be wed to that Baratheon lad, isn't she? But so far she's being a bit stubborn."

"Well, it's through her own willfulness. All she has to do is marry Joffrey and regain the title. Not much to ask from a dutiful girl, is it now?" Mace sputtered, trying to justify his stance. Really, he wasn't being so unreasonable was he?

* * *

"Lord Tyrell? Could I trouble you for a swift word?" the Prince said as soon as he reached Mace. All around the coffee-house men turned to look at the commanding figure of the prince. He towered over the other men like a colossus.

He sat down at Mace's table, making himself at home with an insouciance which annoyed Mace, all long powerful limbs and dark brooding features.

The Landlord hurried up, keen to serve such an illustrious customer. The thought of a Royal Patent above the door, attracting a more discerning clientele was too tempting to resist. "What can I get you, your Grace?"

"Coffee- black , do not stint on the sugar." 

Rupert regarded Margaery's father with some distrust which he sensed was more than mutual, judging by the expression on his face. Personal dislike seemed to war with deference on his face as the prince addressed him.

"Your Grace, 'tis an honour." he said with obvious reluctance. He looked like he would rather be anywhere but here.

_This was the man who was depriving his daughter of her allowance, forcing her to go on the stage and leaving court. Did he even know or care how much distress he was causing the girl?_

She had needed someone to listen to her concerns about her future. He understood why she was so sensitive about her unfortunate marriage to Renly and the decline of her fortunes at court. The situation was unfortunate, and she seemed to need someone understanding to smooth her path. It was no more than any good friend should do.

 _Ah, but your intentions towards the girl are not merely friendly, are they?_ he told himself, remembering her nestling in his arms and the protective surge he'd felt as she'd confessed her distress. Her hand on his coat, her honey gold eyes raised to his in admiration.

"Lord Tyrell, I wanted to talk to you about Margaery."

Mace blinked at the Prince as his suspicions, which had been artfully fanned by the trouble-making Montagu had been confirmed. "Your Grace, you will forgive me for asking, but what business is it of yours about my daughter? I fail to understand."

.

Rupert ignored the rudeness of Lord Mace's tone. The distress in Lady Margaery's voice on the barge. The tremble in her voice in her dressing room as she admitted that she was troubled by the rumours about her fiancé and his penchant for violence towards women. How slender and lovely she’d been in his arms.

"I am given to understand that she has some misgivings about the man you are arranging a match for her with." He said in his haughtiest voice, looking down his long nose at Mace. "- and since you have stopped her allowance, she is forced to find employment elsewhere and relinquish her place at Court."

"What did she tell you, Your Grace?" Mace asked, suspicion narrowing his eyes. “Damn that girl and her tales!”

"There must be a reason for her reluctance. It may very well bear investigation." Rupert said. "One would have thought her own father would have considered this himself, but I’m sure there were other factors concerned.”

Mace's face twisted in resentment at the prince's tactless implication, but Rupert cared not. "Why are you so keen to marry her off to Baratheon anyway?"

“I don’t know what the girl told you, but-“

"Are you implying that your girl is a liar? Is that what you're saying, Lord Tyrell?" that haughty cold tone was unmistakable.

Mace sputtered and harrumphed, angered and enraged at being put on the spot by the Prince. "That's not what I said at all. Please have the goodness not to put words into my mouth, your Grace!"

The two men looked at each other with naked dislike.

“She seems to fear him. Why would that be?” that dark challenging gaze seemed to pin him to his seat. Mace squirmed under the royal scrutiny.

Mace shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t want to think about the rumours about the lad which circulated at court. Not when so much was at stake.

Joffrey was on course to be an heir of great means. His daughter’s fortune would be made once she married him; surely that was what was important? “I don’t know, your Grace! Margaery is a law unto herself!”

"Is that so?"

"The girl is flighty , and I admit she is rather spoilt. I'm sorry that she saw fit to impose upon your good nature, ser. As her father, I only seek to do what is best for her, even if she doesn't thank me for it."

Rupert looked highly unimpressed by Mace’s protests. “I would not like to have to go to my cousin, but this whole situation is most worrying, you understand? So I suggest you find out the cause of these rumours of cruelty from Baratheon. Or I will.”

\----

Mace seethed as the Prince left. 

_How dare Prince Rupert interfere in his daughter's future, as if he had the right to criticise his efforts to get her married off once more. What business is it of his?_ He thought resentfully of Edward Montagu's hints and innuendos. 

_Is he chasing my Margaery? When he's old enough to be her father?_


	4. Her Gallant Champion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei Lannister Baratheon is annoyed at the attention Margaery is getting from the King and the Prince. Especially since there is some unfinished business she has never forgiven him for....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a prequel coming detailing what happened in Oxford all those years ago called 'Blossoms of the Court: The Bittersweet Temptation', so look out for that in the future!

Whitehall Privy Gardens, morning

“I do love what she's wearing at the moment. She has such a glow to her.” Cary Frazier remarked, spotting Margaery walking along the promenade, talking to Lady Sansa and Arya. They stopped to pay their respect to Myrcella and Tommen who were taking the royal pack of spaniels out for a walk. “If I didn’t know better I would say that Lady Tyrell was radiant with love?”

"Seems leaving court has done her some good!" Mary Villiers Stuart remarked. She was still keeping an eye on the burgeoning relationship between Rupert and Lady Tyrell. Interestingly, her little warning seemed not to have put the girl off. Perhaps she has more spirit than I gave her credit for.

"I wonder who the lucky man is?" speculated Betty avidly. "Anyone heard anything?"

Mary kept silent. Some secrets, especially for Rupert she was prepared to keep.

"I heard that she'd attracted the king. He saw her on stage and well..." Cary said with confidence.

"Seems like her money problems are over, then!" 

“That primrose silk is just the thing. Absolutely gorgeous material! I'm tempted to get something very like-"

"aye, and me! I'll pop into Madam Marianne's, I'm sure that's where she goes, her and Lady Sansa." Jane Middleton said enviously. "She's always so well turned out."

"I'll come with you." Lady Betty eagerly. "That colour is divine!"

“I wouldn't bother, Lady Betty, You'd look dreadfully sallow in it!” Bridget drawled bitchily, before swishing away, a sour look on her face.

Betty scowled behind her back, her bottom lip pouting out. "Bother her. I'm going to get some anyway!"

"What's gotten into her?" Lucy Moncrieff asked with a raised eyebrow behind her fan.

"Not Theon Greyjoy obviously!" Betty said with a ribald wink, and a discreet nod to the colonnade, where the man in question was walking with Robb Stark. 

She didn't seem to notice the colour flooding into Lucy's cheeks at his name. "Ignore her, Bridge has been in a foul mood all week. I think she's been fighting with her paramour-" the last bit was whispered behind her Chinese patterned fan which she was inordinately proud of. “- and tempers have been on a short leash. The Duke of York and Prince Rupert have been cracking the whip at the Admiralty office, no doubt.”

"I don't know why she bothers." Cary said, rolling her eyes. “It's not as if Greyjoy has any money? He might have been adopted by Ned and Catelyn Stark but he's an Iron Islander by birth, isn't he?" 

The girls shuddered, partly in delight and fear at such savagery. Even at court, the black reputation of House Greyjoy and the wreckers of Pyke preceded him. If they were honest it made associating with him that much more exciting, and his brooding dangerous air and dark handsome looks all the more alluring.

"Why by all accounts, he's as poor as a church mouse."

"No, but the rumour is he has a fantastic cock and knows well how to use it-" Anna- Maria couldn’t resist pointing out with a side-long smirk.

"You had a go on him, Janie, is it true?" Betty asked, as incorrigibly nosy as ever. She craned her neck, long nose poking it's way into yet more salacious gossip.

Jane Middleton gave a dreamy little smile to her best friend Lucy Moncrieff who started fanning herself, most flustered by her memory. They both blushed, remembering past shared romps with the young naval officer in training.

She mightily resembled the cat who nipped into the dairy and made off with a whole container of Jersey cream.

"Oh aye, Greyjoy definitely knew where to put it!" she purred.

The lusty wicked things the three of them had done over that lost weekend at Buckhurst's country estate. The man had stamina to burn, a fit lithe body she'd mightily enjoyed running her hands all over, a filthy imagination which they had taken full advantage of and a line in dirty talk that made her wet even remembering it. 

Bridget was a bloody lucky lass if she stopped being such a dog in the manger. 

Bridget was infuriated about her friend contemplating her lover's skills. "D'ye mind? I'm still with him!" she snapped shrilly, spoiling for an argument.

"Not for much longer-" chorused Betty sotto voce.

* * *

It did not take long to for the rest of the court to find out about Margaery's new intimacy with the royal cousins and to come to the conclusion that she had succumbed to Charles's charm and become one of his mistresses.

 _You know she's going to be utterly insufferable now!_ Cersei groused inwardly. She was not keen to see how favourably Margaery was being received by the court and the public, now that speculation of her new royal lover had leaked out. 

Of course she responded to everyone's questions with an enigmatic smile and a tactful evasive silence which merely fanned courtly curiosity ever further. Charles just seemed amused by the gossip and any further talk of Margaery leaving court vanished.

The public were fascinated by the girl and her tale of tragedy turned to triumph, her sad marriage, her loss of status and her new stage career and her beautiful voice, the voice that managed to charm a king.

She ground her teeth as she saw three girls wearing their hair 'a la Tyrell' chattering about the fun they'd had at her latest salon. 

Cersei had told herself that she wouldn't be caught dead at one of those gatherings but as most of the younger, more daring set attended her soirees she was only cutting off her nose to spite her face. Even Myrcella was asking to do her hair 'a la Tyrell', and her indulgent father had allowed it, not denying her a thing. 

It was intolerable!

* * *

Cersei looked down her nose at her, hoping to subdue her natural good spirits. _Just because Charles was tupping her didn't mean that she had to be pleasant to the chit!_

"Lady Tyrell, you surely land on your feet, do you not? I was under the impression you were leaving court under a cloud of scandal." there was no mistaking the sheathed viciousness of her voice. Cersei had never bothered to hide her dislike of the Tyrell girl, and she wasn't going to start now. "-working for a living, on the stage no less!" her rouged lip curled in scorn.

Margaery dipped into a demure and elegant curtsey, unperturbed by the older woman's barely veiled hostility. "Luckily, that's not the case, Lady Casterley."

"I see. Friends in high places?" She leaned forward, seeking to intimidate. "And there I was thinking that you were so loyal to that degenerate Renly. Going to desert him as soon as it's convenient?"

"For what it's worth Renly was always very supportive of everything I did. He was not a bad man..." Margaery's features softened as she thought about her former husband and erstwhile friend. "I will always be fond of him and regard him as one of my best friends."

Cersei flushed at the younger woman's subtle rebuke. _How dare the wench try to lesson me?_

She had to restrain herself from flying at the girl with her sharp mails and scratching the life out of her. "Gracious words for a man in disgrace who means to beggar you and divorce you, dear?" She said in her sweetest, most poisonous tones.

Margaery barely flinched at the blonde woman's bitchy tone.

"Renly wasn't a bad man or a bad husband. We just didn't suit, Lady Casterly."

"Ah, so now you seek to be a royal mistress, do ye?" Cersei leant forward, seeking to intimidate. "Mighty ambitious, aren't you?"

"I didn't seek anything, Lady Casterley," Margaery said before her claws came out. "- As I recollect, he did all the running." She gave a little shiver of desire as if she were thinking of Charles’s prowess in bed. Her mouth curved up with mischief as she needled Cersei.

"I warrant you didn't exactly fight him off, you shameless little jade!” Cersei snapped.

"It is my duty as a loyal subject to keep his Grace happy." Margaery exclaimed in all innocence. “-and he is so very persuasive. You can hardly condemn me for a sin which you share?”

Cersei blinked in outrage. _How did this little bitch dare! She sincerely hoped Joffrey would discipline her when they wed!_

“After all, I am no longer a married woman, my lady. Renly gave me my freedom, and we still think very favourably of one another. But I distinctly remember that you were still married to Robert at the time – and you bore two children out of wedlock. So who’s the worse sinner here?” the younger woman gazed at her challengingly. 

_So the little rose has thorns, does she?_ Cersei thought mockingly. Well, I am a lion of Casterley Rock; our claws are sharps and we pay our debts!

“You think you’re so damned clever, don’t you Lady Tyrell? You make a mockery of my son and his suit and you think you'll get away with it?”

Margaery’s gaze was still insolent but she took a step back from her. 

"I don't think I'm anything." She tilted her chin back defiantly daring Cersei to attack her once more. "You know Lady Casterley, it's rather obvious that you can't stand me, isn't it?"

"Don't like you? What are you talking about?" she retorted, scorn wrinkling her nose. She certainly did not like being challenged and confronted with the truth.

"Think about it, Lady Casterley, why would I rush to be bound in wedlock to a family which makes it obvious that it can't stand me?" Margaery said. "Perhaps if you were a mite friendlier, I would be much more positive about marrying into your side of the family."

“Where d’ye think you’re going? I haven’t dismissed you from my presence yet!” Cersei started to say indignantly, but Margaery had already walked away, her head high.

* * *

_Gods, she despised that girl!_ seethed Cersei, as she watched the other girl go. _Always eyeing her with those bold insouciant honey gold eyes, a smirk on her pretty face as she spoke to me. She had no respect for her at all and barely tried to hide it._

She knew that Renly would have told her everything. The knowledge that Margaery knew about her and Jaime and the doomed illicit incestuous affair, and was biding her time to use the knowledge to bring her down sent a chill down Cersei’s spine. She was on edge waiting for them to act, but so far Margaery had said nothing. The tension was torturing her, waiting for the first blow.

_I don’t trust her, not one inch._

_Renly was a naïve charming fool but she’d known how to handle him. He had been so mortified to have been discovered, so terrified that he had been fairly easy to manipulate._ She’d made the mistake of trying to seduce him to bind his tongue, to bind him in sin and because she needed a child that at least looked like Robert so she could retain the Stormlands.

(She still cursed the loss of those lands, a goodly income out of her pocket and the title was as good as her own.) 

But the lad had balked at her advances, and she’d clumsily made herself an enemy – an enemy she had to eliminate before he destroyed the fragile tissue of her privileged life by the king’s side. Charles was tolerant and easy-going toward her, demanding little from her now, but she doubted he’d stay that way if he ever found out the truth.

She wanted Margaery to marry Joffrey so she would finally be under her control. Once Joffrey had got her under the yoke and Renly was banished and discredited forever, they would both be silenced, but until then she would never feel safe.

_And now Margaery had fallen into the king’s bed! She had no doubt the little jade had barely even put up a resistance. See how she put on airs, as if she was something special!_

Cersei had been Charles’s mistress for years, she’d seen those grasping amoral bitches come and go, but she was still here, and would be for a long time having borne him his children. The king would never abandon her!

 _But what if she spilled the beans to the king?_ Cersei fretted. Charles was tolerant to a fault, but he would recoil from the knowledge that she had never truly loved him, only her brother, her golden bold wonderful brother the only man she had ever loved.

_Why did you leave me, Jaime? Why did you walk away from me, from our son?_

No matter how hard she’d searched she’d never been able to find him. It was as if he had disappeared from the face of the earth. She didn’t even know if he were still alive.

 _Margaery Tyrell needs taking down a peg or two, and I am just the woman to do it!_ thought Cersei bitterly. 

_She must have a weakness but what could it be?_

* * *

That Afternoon, Whitehall Privy Gardens

Cersei’s sharp green eyes noticed Prince Rupert walking with the king, deep in intent conversation and gesticulating impatiently with those fine large hands of his. Margaery trotted in between the two tall princes revelling in their attention towards her. Her face was turned up towards Rupert like a flower glowing with contentment and life.

“You care so much about these sailors and their welfare, ‘tis good, ser.” She was saying earnestly. 

“Somebody must. How can you expect men to risk their lives at sea if they’re not paid and fed adequately?” Rupert frowned.

Charles gave a genial shrug, as this was a subject that had been discussed at length. 

Rupert pressed on, airing a subject very dear to his heart. He’d never forgotten his active service in the King’s Navy, sailing for four long years against immense odds and great sacrifices and privation. “‘Tis a true disgrace to the realm that good honest men are swindled by their own superiors for profit. Why should our men starve while men like Pepys line their pockets?”

“I assure you that things will change, coz, and your zeal commends you but things must be done gradually don’t you see?” Charles soothed his fiery elder cousin.

Cersei gritted her teeth. _Now they were casually discussing Naval policy in front of her, as if the dizzy little jade even understood half of what they said!_ She thought in resentment, remembering many a time where Charles had turned to business and she’d been sent off with a patronising pat on her bottom and an idle comment to go make herself pretty and he’d see her later.

She thought about approaching Charles and laying claim to him publicly, showing the little bint that she was not so easily scared off, but the presence of the tall forbidding foreign prince stayed her feet. 

She knew Rupert didn't like her, she could tell by his arrogant dismissal and barely concealed impatience with her. He never had, not at the old king's court as an arrogant sulkily pretty boy with mussy dark chestnut curls and huge dark eyes, visiting his uncle; not during the war while the court moved to Oxford and he dropped in after his battles, war- hardened and arrogant in his youthful vigour. 

Gods, what a man he'd been!

One of the few men after Jaime that she might have seriously considered a dalliance with for the kudos and the challenge. 

Lysa Arryn and I dared each other to break into the room he shared with his brother Maurice and seduce them both. Even after all these years the sting of his abrupt rejection, the way he had dumped her out of his lap and onto the floor still stung. That Lysa Arryn had succeeded with Maurice, but she had been unable to get past that stern icy exterior.

 _That arrogant handsome bastard! As if I was born a Lannister of Casterley Rock and just as good as him!_ She seethed, her pride stung anew.

_Everyone knew the House of Wittelsbach, the Palantine princes were utterly ruined by their parents’ unsuccessful bid for the Bohemian throne, little more than high-born beggars if truth be told. How dare he look down on me when he works for a living!_

There was something in the girl’s body language which interested Cersei despite herself. For someone who claimed to be dallying with the king, it was funny how her stance and gestures all inclined towards the older man. Anyone looking at the group would assume that Rupert and Margaery were the couple, not Charles and Margaery.

* * *

Whitehall Palace

Cersei was heading towards her chambers to fetch Tommen for his audience with his father when Edward Montagu fell in and fitted his steps to hers. He seemed to be very keen to speak and equally strongly not to be over-heard.

 _What the hell does he want from me?_ she thought with undisguised impatience. Inwardly sighing, she fixed a pleasant polite smile to her face. "My Lord Sandwich, what a delight."

"Lady Cersei, I wanted to catch up with you discreetly." he puffed as he caught up to her long stride.

 _I bet you did, Lord Sandwich, what favour do you want me to do for you this month?_ she thought with a cynical slant to her mouth.

"Margaery Tyrell's giving herself airs that she's managed to snare the king as his latest bit of fluff." she sneered, not wanting him to see how threatened she truly was by the younger woman and her turn in fortune. "She seems to have powerful friends that have prevented her being booted from court in disgrace. At this rate the whole scandal with Renly is going to slide off her like water off a duck's back. Why should she allow the king to court her now?"

Montagu shook his head, unconvinced by her statement. "Misdirection."

"What makes you say that?" she gave him a shrewd glance. Gods, how the like of Montagu liked to gossip about his peers! Usually she found it useful, and she was amused by his rivalry with the Prince which spilled over from the Admiralty into court life. _Whoever said that men don't tattle obviously never met a courtier!_

"Lady Tyrell is deliberately implying that she is sleeping with the king to put everyone off the scent, and everyone is fooled while she keeps her new close relationship with Rupert a secret." he smirked familiarly. "Intriguing, isn't it?"

"He just likes to interfere." Cersei said dubiously. "God knows Myrcella and Tommen regard him as an uncle despite my best endeavours, and Charles encourages him at every step. Like it or not, he's part of the family and an important man at court."

Charles was generous to his cousin, acknowledging his long loyalty to his family. As far as the king was concerned Rupert was family, and for all his eccentricities and brooding, he liked the man a great deal. If she wanted to remain at Charles’s side she had to tolerate this, no matter what her personal feelings towards the prince were.

"So you think his interest in Lady Tyrell is purely avuncular?" Montagu sounded as if he very much disbelieved it. "Because he certainly doesn't look at her that way, in my humble opinion."

"Speak plainly, Lord Sandwich. Is the Prince flirting with my son's fiancée?"

"One couldn't say if Rupert was as much of a rake as Charles, but you have to remember that they are both Stuarts and apt to be rather amorous."

Gods! Montagu could never commit to a position and his antipathy towards his rival was transparent as glass. Frankly Rupert was right not to trust this man, if this is how he talked behind his back. 

"So you think the lass is making other arrangements?" Cersei asked. "She aims for the Prince instead?"

"I suspect he has female conquests, he's just a damn sight more discreet about them than the king.” 

Montagu was still talking. “There’s a certain type of woman who finds that brooding sternness very attractive.”

Cersei would have never admitted it, but despite her antipathy towards the man even she could see he was still undeniably attractive. She’d couldn’t help but wonder what he would be like in bed. Imperious, demanding and passionate no doubt.

Cersei let herself imagine: _What if their unsuccessful dalliance in Oxford all those years ago had gone differently? If instead of pushing her off his lap and refusing her advances, he’d gripped her hips letting her work a hand into his breeches stroking and gripping the hard hot length of his cock. If she’d slid down onto his lap, impaling herself on his prick and moving urgently towards a frantic passionate climax._

“Of course there was that business with the Bard girl claiming to be his secret bride. He denies it up and down, of course. There's little proof of a prior engagement, but-"

“But what”? Cersei said with impatience, roused from her daydream of a long-gone time.

“There's no smoke without fire, that’s all. Why should he leave the mother of his bastard unless there was another waiting in the wings for her cue?" Montagu intoned with satisfaction. He gave her a smug look, as if he was expecting her to lavish him with praise for running straight to her with this tattle.

“How do I know this isn’t just you trying to grind an axe, Lord Montagu? Everyone knows you were hardly pleased to work with the man, or to have joint command.” Cersei couldn’t help pointing out.

"Ask yourself this: Why is he fighting her battles for her now?" he fired at her as a parting shot. "Quite a gallant champion she's got for herself, don't you think?"

* * *

couldn't believe Montagu's indiscreet little hints and implications. What was he trying to imply, not so subtly? That Margaery was not dallying with the king at all, but was flirting with Prince Rupert on the sly instead? The thought of the two of them together made her seethe.

Margaery’s face looking at the Prince as if she worshipped the ground he walked on. The affectionate slant of his smile as he looked down on her, listening to her artless chatter. Cersei roiled with a hot acid jealousy she would have never have admitted publicly.

_If she thinks she can deceive my Joffrey she has another think coming!_


	5. Plots Afoot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei plots, Margaery daydreams and Sansa is concerned about her best friend's growing _tendre_ for the prince. 
> 
> Meanwhile Cersei uses her son Tommen to get close to Rupert's ex-mistress, Francesca Bard.

Joffrey let himself into his mother’s luxurious apartments at the palace. _I really hope she isn’t going to start nagging about getting married. Is it my fault if the Tyrell maid is proving too slippery to pin down?_

As usual, his younger brother Tommen was sat on the floor playing with his spaniel pups. His lip curled as he nearly tripped up over him. Tommen stopped and stared at his elder brother warily, not quite sure if he was going to earn a cuff or a kick from Joffrey. His lip trembled and his eyes were green pools.

“Where’s mother? And how come you’re playing with those blasted pups again?” his voice came out sharper than he’d intended, but damn it, little Tommen got on his nerves with his sweet, happy go lucky personality and golden angelic looks. _How the court fawned over him because Charles had acknowledged paternity!_

Tommen’s lip trembled a little. “Papa said I could have three pups from Kingcup’s last litter.”

_But for the grace of God, I could have been a king’s bastard just like him. I could be Charles’s son and entitled to a dukedom, maybe even a throne!_

_But no, I have to be content with being a mere Baratheon, tagging along with that blithering idiot Jemmy._

Despite the fact that the king as easy-going and generous to a fault as ever allowed Joffrey the run of the palace and a decent living courtesy of the Crown and treating like a de facto son, it was not the same.

He didn’t remember much about the man who was his father Robert. A drunken brutal lout, according to his mother, a wencher who was liberal with his fists and pissed away the fortune he’d had after his defeat in the war. Disappointed by the long exile of the court, he’d drunk himself to death and disgrace, a sad broken relic of the great warrior who had rode proudly at Prince Rupert’s side.

_Why couldn’t I have been born a king’s son instead? ___

* * *

“You wished to see me, mother?” he said with some impatience.

Cersei looked up from her letters, frowning as she saw her eldest son.

 _What intrigue is she up to now?_ He wondered.

As long as he could remember, his mother was always up to something. Usually he didn’t mind as long as it was in his interests, and most of the time it was. 

No matter how badly he behaved, she was always there to defend him like a lioness with her cub. Even if she could be a bit smothering and she was a champion nagger, he knew she was the one person who was always in his corner.

“Joffrey, I was wondering when you were going to make an appearance?” she said coolly, sprinkling sand on her reply. She was looking very lovely and young today in apple-green silk, with pale pink bunches of ribbons at her sleeves and tiny matching rosebuds adorning her wired bunches of ringlets. _She must be expecting the king today to be making such an effort._ Joffrey thought.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” he said ungraciously. _Damn it, she’d better not be giving him a hard time now!_ He stretched out casually, helping himself to her stock of brandy from the decanter. 

Cersei gave him a displeased frown, but he ignored her. She drank too much anyway, the old lush, he thought scornfully, according to the indiscreet snippets Barbara let out after they indulged in their secret dalliance. _How furious she would be if she ever got an inkling of that!_

“We have to talk about your match with the Tyrell wench.” she said, getting down the business straight away.

Joffrey’s chin jutted out, immediately on the defensive.  
“It’s not my fault she’s the one who keeps on delaying things. Every week, a new excuse.”

Her eyes narrowed. “And why do you think that would be, my son?”

“I don’t know. She’s an attention seeking little baggage.” Joffrey grumbled. 

No matter what he seemed to do, he never could seem to please his new fiancée. Not that he cared that much about her finer feelings, but she made hardly any secret of her disdain for him and his cronies. She absolutely refused to give up her highly unsuitable friends. He’d mentioned that he didn’t want the likes of Tyrion Lannister and John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester associating with her, and they’d fought about it, Margaery proving to be very polite, icy and utterly unmovable. 

“You know she’s taking to the stage, like some common wag-tail?” Cersei sneered, “-and how she’s wangled it so she is not dismissed from court in disgrace, as frankly she should be.”

“So what? She’s fluttered her eyelids at the king, or something?” Joffrey’s lip curled in scorn, “You’re fussing again, Mother.”

“It’s not the king you should be worried about, according to my sources. It’s Rupert.”

“Who told you that?” Joffrey couldn’t quite believe his ears. He rolled his eyes. _Is she serious? His fiancée was flirting with that old man? Surely he was far too old for her. Was this some kind of a jape?_

“Rupert? Jemmy’s Uncle Rupert?” he sputtered in sheer disbelief starting to laugh heartily. “Now I know you’ve had a tipple too far, mother. Really? 

Cersei’s voice took on a shrill tone, annoyed that her son was not taking her warning about the girl seriously. She frowned at his levity, “You may mock, but something is going on, I warrant. They’re always spending time together. She hangs off his arm while he and the king discuss naval policy.” 

“You’re saying that Margaery is flirting and toying with Prince Rupert of the Rhine? My fiancée is cheating on me?” he didn’t even try to hide his disbelief. 

“I’m saying that you need to do something about it before it’s too late.” Cersei said, “For I assure you that the Tyrell minx is up to something, and she is far wilier than she looks. That sweet innocent mask is most deceptive.” 

* * *

_He really was the most exciting man,_ thought Margaery as she made her way back home with Sansa and Eve, still excited by her performance and meeting Prince Rupert again. Dark handsome and dashing, he towered over other men like a colossus. Six foot four in height, a veritable giant of a man. He cut a fine noble figure at Charles's court, a dignified distinguished man in an age of ribald boys and mincing fops. 

_Could she really be blamed for harbouring a tendre for him? When he was so kind to her, so understanding of her situation?_

_Everything had changed the moment he’d opened his arms to her in the tiring room, comforting her in her distress. How safe she’d felt in his embrace, how protected. Her traitorous heart was pounding behind her busk, longing for him to hold her close once more._

_It might be hopeless, but I can’t help how I feel._ thought Margaery wishing that she didn’t have to cling to impossibilities for hope. 

“Margaery dear, is everything good?” Eve asked her clear grey-green eyes bright with concern and affection. She gave her friend a shy little smile of encouragement and support. “It’s just that you sighed so deep. Surely things are starting to look brighter for you?” 

“Aye, Evie. Don’t fret over me, things are starting to get better, I hope.” 

_ Sansa_

_Rupert had to be in his mid-forties but he looked remarkably well for his age._

_He made the likes of Joffrey and Monmouth look like the callow boys they really were._

_She's never seen her friend so excited about a man before. Her pretty face glowed, radiant with excitement as she chattered about the Prince and how complimentary he’d been about her performance. How kind he’d been to her and how she was starting to value his friendship._

Sansa quietly hoped that Margaery knew what she was doing. It was easy to see that she was fascinated by the prince, but she was still linked to Joffrey and from what she could gather of Baratheon, he wasn't a man inclined to share. 

_Will she listen to me if I express my fears for her?_

_She didn't like Joffrey in the slightest. She hated the way he eyed her lasciviously, even when in the presence of his betrothed. It showed a singular lack of respect for her and his fiancée, which was troubling. She still hadn't forgiven or forgotten being called a 'hot piece' on their first meeting!_

_In that situation it was easy to see the appeal of Prince Rupert. He was everything that Joffrey wasn’t. Margaery, her dearest friend, who was caught up in a betrothal she clearly did not want and then meeting the dashing Prince. It was unsurprising that she would fall hard for him._

_I sincerely hope you know what you’re doing Margaery, I really do._

* * *

Cersei

Cersei’s mind brooded and fretted over the problem of Margaery Tyrell and her inexplicable friendship with the Prince. Even though Joffrey seemed to be dismissive of her warnings she still thought that there was something in the hints and insinuations that Edward Montagu had brought up. Now that she had opened her eyes, the evidence was right there. 

_Something is going to have to be done. If Margaery Tyrell thinks that she is going to make a fool of my Joffrey and myself, she can think again. But I have to be clever about it._

She had heard rumours that Rupert had left his former mistress Francesca, a sweet young Irish Catholic girl who’d borne him a son named Dudley, and then abruptly broken up with him. _There must be something in this, but what?_

Francesca lived a quiet life; she didn’t frequent court and had few friends there. Cersei had heard she was a Roman Catholic and far from popular. That must have been an interesting state of affairs, him being such a rigid inflexible Calvinist by creed, smirked Cersei. 

Discreetly she set a servant to find out where the girl was likely to be found and arrange an ‘accidental’ meeting. 

_I think I need to talk to Mistress Bard discreetly, to find out a few things and pass on some pertinent information. But I have to be careful; none of this must get traced back to me. For Rupert knows I bear him no love, and he and that scheming strumpet should not be forewarned that I am stirring up a hornet’s nest for them both!_

\----

The opportunity arose as she met Frances and her nursemaid out with the young lad as she was walking in the park with Tommen and those spaniel pups he was inseparable from. Cersei thought that bringing her own child with her was a master stroke. Women tended to trust fellow mothers more, and since she intended to cultivate a friendship with his former mistress, she needed something in common as a hook. 

Frances was having a picnic with a friend, skirts spread out like flowers on the green sward, while the complacent nursemaid kept an eye on the lad who was crawling round in his skirts, looking at the world round him with curious gaze. 

She nudged Tommen, prompting him to play his part. “Now, you know what you have to do, do you not? Loosen the lead and then lead the puppy over to the boy and engage his interest.” 

Tommen looked doubtfully at the group. “Is he going to want to play with Ser Pounce and I? He seems awfully small?” 

“Trust Mama and play your part, darling. You can do that, can’t you?” she urged, giving a push in the small of his back. “Go on!” 

Tommen chased Ser Pounce over to where the young boy toddled. Once the lad spotted the spaniel he stared at him, captivated by the small puppy. 

“Hullo.” Tommen said shyly, not sure of what to do or why it was so important to his mother that he befriend this tiny boy.

Ser Pounce bounded over to the boy, eager to make a new friend. He barked, wagging his tail enthusiastically. Tommen scratched his ears and Ser Pounce rolled over onto his back exposing the soft fur of his belly and growling in pleasure as he rubbed it. 

The little boy pealed in delight, beaming at Tommen. “Woof-woof! I want a woof-woof!" 

Tommen picked him up and cuddled the puppy, letting it lick his jaw. He picked up his little paw, waving it at his new young friend. “This is Ser Pounce. Say hello, Pounce.” 

“Dudley, who are you talking to? You **know** you don’t talk to strangers!” even though her words were sharp with worry, Frances’s voice held the soft melodic Irish accent she’d never lost. She sighed as she noticed the puppy who was climbing over her son, wagging his tail and looking at him adoringly. "Ugh, I might have known! You and dogs, just like your father!" 

Cersei approached the group, taking an opportunity to take a good look at Rupert’s son. He stared up at her with huge dark eyes so like his illustrious father’s that it gave Cersei a bit of a shock. Wispy fair curls escaped from his embroidered linen cap, uncut as the boy was far too young to be breeched as yet. Such a sweet innocent face, still childish and rounded. 

“Please forgive me; I think your son was just interested in my son’s puppies. You know what children are like, he won’t go anywhere without them!” she said in her most friendly and charming tones. She gave the woman a disarming smile, using all the persuasiveness and charm at her disposal. 

Frances looked up at Cersei from under her great straw hat, large as a cartwheel. She was pretty and girlish, with soft golden hair and clear child-like blue-grey eyes. There was a faint spattering of golden freckles on her cheeks. “I don’t believe we’ve ever had the pleasure of accquaintance?” she said politely. 

“Oh excuse me! It’s Lady Cersei Lannister Baratheon, at your service.” She smiled dazzlingly at her. 

The wariness in her eyes did not disappear. “Lady Casterley. I have heard of you.” 

For a moment Cersei wondered whether Rupert had mentioned her to the chit. 

“Oh, nothing bad, I hope?” she said lightly. 

She could see Frances start to soften, to second guess her first gut-instinct. Cersei let her slowly relent. _She has to trust me for this to work._

“No, my lady, just that you are in a similar position to myself, I daresay?” The girl gazed up at her, with her chin lifted, offering that little titbit as a challenge. 

“Yes well, we ladies have to survive as best we can, especially when we have little ones to think of.” Cersei said, keeping her voice friendly and confiding. “The boy is a credit to you, so healthy and pretty. Such very distinctive eyes…” 

Frances sat up a little straighter, as if she had been struck by grape-shot. _She is finally starting to work out who I am and my position at court. And she is aware that I know her secret too._

“You’re one of the King’s ladies, aren’t you?” 

_Such an innocent, she has little to no idea who I am, does she? What did Rupert do whilst she was his? Keep the girl under lock and key?_

Cersei smiled again, giving her an elegant self-deprecating shrug. “Guilty as charged, I’m afraid." 

“So you thrived as a mistress?” Frances asked, eyeing the rich dark red satin of Cersei’s walking dress, trimmed with jaunty gold braid. “People didn’t look down on you?” 

Cersei bristled a little inwardly at the mere thought. _As if I would ever allow anyone to look down on me! A Lannister of Casterley Rock!_

She spotted the younger woman’s weakness and how to exploit it for her own ends. _She’s insecure and has few friends. Now that Rupert has left her, she has lost the defining figure in her life. How old must she have been when they got together, I wonder?_

“I can’t say I truly regret beating Charles’s children. He is so fond of them. I really have no complaints on that score.” She said, trying to create some rapport between them. _She has to trust me, to let me in. Gods, this Francesca is a hard nut to crack!_

Cersei handed her one of her thick cream vellum cards. “I feel like we could get to know each other a lot better, and our children seem to be getting on so well. Perhaps you’d like to drop in for a spot of dinner at my town house on King Street?” 

Francesca’s hand hesitated over the card. “I suppose there’s no harm in it, is there?” She grasped it by the edge and slipped it into the reticule on her lap. 

Cersei inclined her head, hiding her sense of triumph over the girl. 

_That’s it, Francesca, take the bait. You’re going to be very useful for me, one you realise that I’m about to become your very best friend._


	6. At the Park

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rupert and Margaery bond while dog-walking in St James's Park, she meets Lord Craven and has lunch with him, learning more about the Prince on the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really don't know if anyone is reading or enjoying this so if you do please feel free to comment or ask questions.
> 
> I am a little bit worried about this chapter as it's quite a vital one!

St James’s Park, early morning

Margaery was restless and decided to work off some of her frustration with a vigorous early morning walk. She decided to turn her steps towards the woods, surround herself with nature. Perhaps that would stop her thinking such forbidden saucy thoughts about a man who was so far out of her star she might as well aim for the moon.

_I can't be a fool. He's only being polite. You shouldn't be thinking about him in that way. He's just being friendly and caring because he sees me as a damsel in distress and I appeal to his ingrained chivalry._

Even as she told herself that Margaery knew that she was lying to herself. There was no mistaking the interest in his liquid dark eyes. The intensity in his deep husky voice as he spoke to her.

The way he looked at her made her feel like an infinitely desirable woman, in a way she hadn’t felt for a long time. It was so exciting; she couldn't stop thinking of him, wanting him even though she knew such thoughts were futile. 

_This is insanity, you know you must not, you’re promised to Joffrey._

Never had she resented her fate so deeply. 

_I thought I was still in love with Renly! How can I have feelings for another man?_

_This was not a man who she could flirt with, and play light silly games with. No Rochester or Buckhurst she could kiss and tease and walk away from._ Margaery found she didn’t know if she could walk away from the Prince.

 _As if a great man, a hero and living legend like Rupert would ever take notice of a silly girl like me?_ She told herself, willing herself to be sensible. She had to pull herself together before she met him and not make an absolute cake of herself.

_We are friends, that's all. That’s all we’ll ever be. But, oh, how I want to be much more!_

\-----

The Prince was waiting for her when she returned from her internal pep talk. All her good intentions flew right out of her head at the sight of him. _How could I have ever believed that I could be ‘just friends’ with him?_

“Good Morning, your Grace.” She said brightly, hoping her longing and desire for him did not show on her face.

“Not too early in the morning, is it? We Stuarts tend to be early risers, I’m afraid. The King’s taking a walk over there and he’ll take a dip in the Thames later. Rather him than me.”

“Are you not going to join him?” asked Margaery.

Rupert wrinkled his nose. “I think not, not today. It’s perishing cold, he must be mad; but ‘tis his habit. He likes his exercise and he’s rather ungovernable without it.” His mouth curved up in a sardonic smile. “Besides, why would I want to swim in the cold, when I can spend time with a lovely lady like you?”

She blushed a little at his words. Even though he probably wasn’t flirting with her per se, she liked it when he said things like that, got that glint in his eye.

The couple walked for a while simply enjoying each other’s company and giving his dogs some exercise.

“You’ll have to watch this one.” He said, stroking the head of a beautifully dappled small greyhound dog, little more than a puppy. Her sleek pale fawn head leaned into his touch as she looked up at him adoringly, tongue hanging out. 

Margaery couldn’t help feeling that she knew exactly how that dog felt. 

“This is Smudge, she’s very young and boisterous and tends to try and slip her lead whenever she can.”

Margaery bent down to greet the dog, who bounced up and licked her on the cheek. “Hello sweetheart! You’re very affectionate, aren’t ye?”

Rupert gave the dog a fond smile. It was easy to see that despite his chiding words, he was extremely fond of the animal. “She is. The daft lass bounds up to everyone, expecting them to be her friend and adore her instantly. Such a flirt! I’m trying to train her out of it but she has a mind of her own.”

“You’re very fond of her.” Margaery observed.

“I have a bit of a way with animals, it runs in the family, I think. My mother was the same; she had a huge menagerie of pets round her for as long as I can remember. Sometimes I think she was fonder of her pets than her children.”

She felt so at ease with him, so calm and peaceful as if for this still tranquil moment in time all her troubles melted away. Smudge gamboled and frisked round them, eagerly nosing round Margaery’s skirts.

“I spoke to your father.” Rupert sighed, not wanting to disappoint that pretty face raised to his so hopefully.

“Aye, what did he say?”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping under his navy coat.

“So it didn’t go well?”

He shook his head.

“Oh.”

“Do you really want to hear this?”

She nodded. “I may as well hear the worst of it.”

“As I remember he said something to the effect that you were flighty and spoilt, and that he was sorry you had seen fit to presume on my good nature.”

“What?” Margaery gasped, shocked by what her father had said to Rupert behind her back. Made her look like an idiotic stupid girl when she wanted Rupert to see her as a woman dealing with the hand fate played her and taking control of her life once more.

“I don’t know, I tried to get him to have second thoughts about your match to Joffrey or at least make some enquiries about his reputation, but I think he took it the wrong way.”

“The wrong way?” She didn’t like the sound of this.

“I got the distinct feeling he resented me saying anything.. I have to admit I kind of lost my temper at his attitude."

Margaery was still stung by the fact that her father had implied that she was lying about her misgivings. Despite her attempt to feel positive about her situation, she couldn’t help feeling a little discouraged by his news.

“I lost my temper, I didn’t handle it well.” He admitted frankly. “Looking back, I shouldn’t have let him get to me, but he was so negative and unfeeling. I don’t know what he’d been told, but he wasn’t willing to listen at all.”

“I’m sorry I could not change his mind.” He said heavily, trying to comfort her. “I can’t help but feel that I failed you.”

“You didn’t fail me, Rupert.” Margaery squeezed his forearm, revelling in the tense strength of it.

He turned to her. “I didn’t? But Lord Tyrell wouldn’t listen…”

“My father is a remarkably stubborn man. Once he’s made his mind up about something is well-nigh impossible to get him to change his mind.”

“Even if he’s making you unhappy?”

She sighed, leaning against him. “My happiness has nothing to do with this.”

“It should.” 

She had to look away from his intent gaze.

“He’s set on this match and he won’t listen to anyone. I don’t blame you for it, your Grace.”

“We won’t lose hope. I can still make some enquiries, talk to Charles. If you want me to? No stone shall be left unturned, I give you my word.”

“Thank you ser. I really do appreciate it.”

“Do you even like him?” He asked brusquely.“There is no way you could find some way to live with him? Many husbands and wives at court live separate lives.”

She wanted to confide in him and tell the truth about her disastrous relationship with Joffrey. There was no question that she could ever reconcile herself to his foibles.

“No, I cannot bear him. I resent every moment I have to be in his presence, let alone the thought of being bound to him for life. If my father hadn’t forced me to accept his suit, I would refuse to have anything to do with him. Especially since Pippa told me what he's capable of.She told me his victim lived, but no thanks to him.”

He frowned, putting his mind to work on the problem. ”

“Let me contact Pippa. I think if she were to come and give evidence, back up your misgivings, it might be easier to convince your father and the king to put a stop to this match with Joffrey.”

“Is there something wrong with me?” she asked.

He turned to her, surprised at her despondent statement. “Wrong with you? No, why on earth would you say that? There’s nothing wrong with you at all.”

Was there the slightest dash of colour on his high cheekbones? There was! What had he been about to say? “Any other woman would jump at the chance of marrying into such an illustrious family, especially when he reputation is already sullied like mine.”

She felt as if she was pinned against the trunk of the tree by the intensity of his dark gaze. “But you do not, I see."

No, she felt a relief to admit it. She shook her head. "No, my Lord.”

“So what is it that you truly want, Margaery?”

She looked up at those dark eyes riveted to hers, as if he simply could not tear his eyes from hers.

His hands trembled as if he desperately wanted to lay hands on her and by some feat of will was managing to restrain himself. 

It hit Margaery like a thunderbolt. She felt as if she was on the edge of a dizzying precipice looking down into the abyss, scared and yet exhilarated by something she didn’t dare to name just yet. 

_**He wants me, as much as I want him.**_

She looked up at him, willing the prince to take the gamble. _What's the worst he can do? Reject me?_ She told herself, even though the thought made her miserable inside. 

“You, ser. I want you.”

He dropped his hands from her arms as if she’d burnt him.

“Rupert?”

He stepped back from her, looking stricken. He stared at her like a man in torment, torn between what he desired and what he knew was right.

“Your Grace, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything and now I’ve made things all awkward.” She said in a rush, hoping she wouldn’t weaken and start to cry.

_Why had she said anything? Why had she ruined it by opening her big mouth and blurting out her feelings like a green girl who didn’t know any better? Grand-Mere Olenna would be horrified!_

“It’s not you Margaery darling, truly. Never think that!”

She didn’t understand. _He wants me, I know he does._ "So why are you pushing me away, my lord?"

He groaned low in his throat like a man lost.

“Margaery. My dearest.” He wrapped his arms round her. “Never think that I don’t want you. Even though I should not.”

“Why not? What harm do we do?” she challenged him. _Why was he resisting what they both wanted so passionately?_ She ground against him, just a subtle brush against his crotch and heard him groan.

“Oh angel, I want you desperately, but look at us! You're so young and beautiful, so promising, so plucky and smart and I'm-"

"What, Rupert? Why do you deny yourself?"

His eyes closed as he sighed. "You're in your twenties or thereabouts?"

"Aye, my lord. I'll be three-and-twenty in October." Margaery asked, wondering why this was such an issue. 

"I'm old enough to be your father! I have no business pursuing you, especially as I'm meant to be helping you and you're engaged to Baratheon. Margaery, I can't take advantage of you, it would be dishonourable!"

He thinks he is taking advantage of me? But I **want** him to!

“Do you honestly think I care about that? I want you, Rupert!” She looked up at him longingly, wishing she could show him how much he affected her, how he didn't need to deny himself what they both wanted. “I need you.”

He bent his head to kiss her, just a gentle tender brush of his mouth against hers but it was the spark to a glowing ember. He pulled her closer, the press of his mouth deepening in fervour.

She felt weak at the knees, her arms going up to wind round him. Here eyes fluttered shut in sheer bliss. "Oh Rupert-"

“I know I should not, but I can’t help myself." he murmured against the line of her throat following it with kisses which made her cling to him and sigh with pleasure. "So beautiful...oh angel, how can anything so good be dishonourable?" 

“Don’t think, don't question it,” she breathed. “Just kiss me again. Don’t stop.”

They pulled apart for a moment eventually, stunned by the intensity of the emotions they had awakened within themselves. Realising now they had expressed their feelings, had kissed each other there was no way that they could go back to being nothing more but friends. They’d both taken a bite of the apple, their eyes had been opened, and she for one, was addicted.

The silence between them was shattered by the King’s cheery voice, coming from the riverbank as he approached them. He called out enthusiastically as he spotted Rupert. “Rupe? Coz?”

Rupert sighed, letting her go with reluctance. “I love him dearly but his timing is terrible.” 

He bent to kiss her once more, a gentle sweet press of his mouth against hers that made her feel cherished. "We will talk of this again. Rest assured that your affections are returned, dear girl."

Margaery stood, pressed against the bark of the tree, still dazed by the passion in their kisses. Even the dogs barking and playing round them seemed distant. The world seemed sharper and brighter like she was in some heightened blissful dream.

 _I love him,_ she told herself, nurturing that warm heady glow of joy inside her. _I'm head over heels, and he adores me too!_

For that glorious moment she forgot her troubles with the loathsome Joffrey, Renly and her's disgrace and her stubborn father. _Rupert loves me!_

\----

"Ah Lady Margaery, I didn't know you were here!" Charles said cheerfully, before turning to his cousin. "No wonder you didn't want to go swimming with me this morning with such a lovely lady to keep you company!"

He finally noticed the rapt silence between the two of them, the way neither could tear their eyes away from each other. "Is everything all right here?" he asked warily glancing between the couple.

Rupert shook his head, as if waking from a deep enchantment. "No Sire, Lady Margaery and I are going to lunch with Lord Craven and then she has rehearsals."

"So you're definitely coming to that Admiralty meeting at three?" Charles said, with a dubious look.

"Certainly."

"I'll see you then, coz." the king said resolving to ask later in private and find out exactly what had been going on between the delectable Lady Tyrell and the Prince. Why Rupert had looked quite so dazed and Margaery quite frankly looked so ravished.

* * *

Margaery was still rather flustered by her reaction to the kiss and the appearance of the king. Her relationship with the Prince had suddenly changed, and she was still trying to come to terms with this new state of affairs.

**He wants me! He really does want me.**

An old man with iron grey hair in the style of twenty years ago was waiting by the carriage. He was very small, especially compared to Rupert’s towering height, with dark shrewd eyes, a mustache and plain good-natured features.

The dogs bounded over to greet their master’s old friend as exuberant as ever. Rupert tried to call Smudge back, before she knocked the man over in her enthusiasm.

“Smudge! Behave!” he reprimanded her as she dashed towards Craven, wagging her tail frantically. “I swear to God, that dog has a mind of her own!”

Whoa now, lassie. Who’s a bit eager to see their old friend eh?” he said, as Smudge practically dive-bombed him, tail wagging away in happiness.

The prince greeted the man with genuine affection. “Ah Will, glad you made it.” he teased with the familiarity of long accquaintance.“I thought we’d end up going to lunch without you.”

Lord Craven didn’t seem bothered by Rupert’s affectionate teasing. “Less of your cheek, lad, some of us like to rise at a civilised hour. At my age, I need my beauty sleep!”

He stopped and greeted the dogs who were muzzling and nosing in his pockets, presumably for the treats he dug out and shared between them.

“Margaery, this is Lord William Craven, an old family friend of mine. We'll be having lunch with him today.” 

“His Grace is kind enough to say so.” He gave her a long assessing glance, breaking into a warm welcoming smile as if he liked very much what he saw. 

* * *

Spring Gardens, Whitehall

“So you’re Lady Margaery Tyrell!" Lord Craven said as they tucked into the delicious lunch the chef had prepared, once they had got back to his House in Spring Gardens. 

Margaery was dying to have a look around, but her curiosity could wait for the moment. 

"I’ve heard a great deal about you, dear. 'Tis a great pleasure to meet ye at last.”

 _Was Rupert actually blushing a little? He was!_ Margaery wondered what he had said to Lord Craven.

The older man examined her carefully as he ate. “Let me guess, you’re a Highgarden lass, you have that delightfully musical lilt to your voice. Olenna Redwyne’s kin, I’ll bet.”

She flushed with pleasure, taking a sip of the wine, which was a very nice Arbor Gold from home, gorgeously mellow on the tongue. “I’m her Grand daughter

Lord Craven smiled. “I knew your Grandmother an age ago. Smart as a tack and a tongue like a cut-throat razor, as I recollect. Rather remarkable ankles as well as I remember from the Volta. I bet she's still as smart as a whip, I take it?”

“She still is, my lord.”

He inclined his head, his eyes twinkling at her. “Doesn’t surprise me."

Margaery could not imagine her grandmother dancing the Volta of all things. She couldn't help raising her eyebrows at that one.

"We were all young once, m'dear. I wasn't always the old stick that you see here. Well, doesn't time pass us all by! I have known this lad since he was this high." he indicated with his wineglass."It was an honour to serve his mother Elizabeth and to watch over her children. To Elizabeth of Bohemia!"

Rupert smiled fondly at Lord Craven as they toasted the memory of his mother. It was easy to see the fondness and closeness between them. Margaery marvelled at the steadfast loyalty that had kept Lord Craven at his side for so long.

"So you see why Rupert was so keen for me to meet you, my dear?" Craven said as Rupert's attention was taken by one of the servants for a moment.

"Yes, my Lord, I think that I do."

* * *

After lunch, they had a look round the house. Margaery was fascinated by his house, wanting to spend an age exploring and finding out all the Prince, but she knew time was limited. Soon she would have to go back to the theatre and work. She still had seven performances to get through, and John Dryden had mentioned a new entertainment he was devising with added songs to display her voice to finest effect.

"Shall we have a look at the Portrait Gallery?"

Rupert had one of the most interesting collections of art and artifacts in the capital, pieces from far-flung nations. She'd always wanted to see it for herself. "I would be delighted to!"

The group stopped before the portrait of the two young men, dark and beautiful, so strikingly alike. She recognised one of them as a younger Rupert. 

_Gods, he was a stunner in his youth; he would have broken hearts all over, Mother and Grand-mere Olenna were right. Those large long lashed dark eyes any court lady would envy, the distinguished long nose, square strong chin with the distinct cleft and sharp bone structure, the tall strong powerful body encased in ceremonial armour. The contrast between the luxuriant lace collar and his long wavy dark hair. It looked silken to the touch and she had an urge to curl it round her fingers..._

"Who is the other boy?" she asked, fascinated and intrigued by the portraits. “He looks so like you, you must be nearly of an age."

Rupert's face was grave, the line in his face carved deep with some unspoken grief. "My brother."

"Please, your Grace, I did not mean to pry it just well... I want to know everything about you." She could see the moment that he relented and decided to confide in her.

"My brother Maurice. We were very close. He was my right- hand. We fought together throughout the war."

"What happened to him?"

His mouth thinned into a line as if he were struggling with emotion. "He died."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She could see the struggle on his face, the tension between his impulse to shut down any deep inquiry into the recesses of his heart and his need to open up to her.

"Maurice and I were only one year apart in age. I used to call him my twin. We were so close.” He held up two crossed fingers. “like this.” 

“It must have been so terrible for you. I’m so sorry.”

He sighed. "It sounds strange even though I know that he's been gone for years, but I still talk to him. The fancies of an ageing man." he said with a self-deprecating smile at his own foibles. 

"It's not so strange to miss your brother." She said quietly taking his hands in hers.“Especially as you were so close to him.” She could not bear to think how she would cope if she lost one of her brothers. The thought of losing Loras , of losing Garlan or Willas hurt her deep.

He gave her hand a squeeze, appreciating her heartfelt simple comfort.

"I wish you could have met him. I think he would liked you.” He gave her such a quiet wistful smile that her heart broke anew.

"In my youth I was somewhat headstrong, impatient. Maurice was a tempering influence. He was never afraid to tell me to my face when I was being an ass. And yet he always supported me no matter what, ever faithful and true. I will miss him until the day I die, and I hope he'll wait for me."

Here he led her further down the picture gallery to view more pictures.

"This is us when we were a little older. My sister Louise painted this one. She was the real artist amongst us."

"What happened to her?" Margaery asked, curious about his family, and the sister he spoke of with such fondness. 

_They were close once, I think._ she thought, looking at the painting with wonder. This mysterious Louise was a part of his life, someone he was fond of.

"She ran away to a nunnery and converted to Catholicism. It was a bit of a family scandal, but as long as she is happy, none of us can complain. She was not very happy towards the end. I wish I could have helped her. I wish she hadn't been so alone."

She saw a picture of Maurice a bit older. His face was softer and rounder than Rupert's with the same long dark hair, defined brows and fine dark Stuart eyes with long lashes, just like Charles and Rupert’s. There was a twinkle in his eyes, a roguish glint that Rupert’s serious wistful gaze always lacked. Gods they were a handsome family, were they not?

"For years I kept hoping that we'd hear news that he'd reappear but nothing has ever been heard since. I had to come to terms with the fact that Maurice is dead and it's like losing half of myself."

Margaery's eyes misted over with compassion. She could feel the grief from the prince which still was almost palpable. _How he must have loved this brother of his! How important his family was to him._

"You know I've never spoken so deeply of this before, Margaery-“ he said, his hand in hers.

She squeezed his hand, glad that he felt able to show her his vulnerability. A sweet surge of tenderness towards this proud decent man she'd fallen for filled her. 

"I'm glad you spoke of it to me." She said as she put her head on his shoulder, his arm going round her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Lord William Craven was a close family friend of Rupert and his family. Absolutely devoted to his mother Elizabeth of Bohemia, he spent most of his life in her service and helping her family, including Rupert. He outlived Rupert living to a great age of nearly ninety. In many ways, I get the feeling Craven was like a father to him and his opinion would be very important.
> 
> * I don't really think you can write about Rupert without mentioned his fondness for his pets. Smudge is an OC, but he was well known for his dogs and horses, and earlier on he apparently tamed a hare whilst he was in prison in Austria, he had a pet monkey and of course there was his famous poodle Boye who accompanied him during the Civil War and was killed at Marston Moor.


	7. How three different people took the news

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles and Rupert discuss the issue, while Margaery goes to see Renly and Loras and Joffrey seethes with jealousy as he realises that he really **does** have a rival for Margaery's hand.
> 
> The path of true love never did run smooth...

At Renly's lodgings

Margaery made her way to a modest address, which was nowhere near the fashionable part of town. There was little likelihood of being seen by anyone at Court, but Margaery wasn't about to take a chance. She made sure her mask was securely on and the hood of her voluminous cloak shielded her identity from view.

She knew that she had to see Renly. He had to know the change in her circumstances. Part of her kind of wanted his blessing. Despite everything that had happened between them, she still trusted him and his judgment. _It's not so strange, is it? After all, Rupert still is friends with Mary Villiers Stuart. He trusts her, she still cares for him._

She slipped into the apartment, knocking on the door. _Please let them be in. Doing this is hard enough as it is._

Renly's manservant Mathis opened the door warily and gaped at her, obvious not expecting any visitors. 

She strode past him. “May I come in?”

Mathis stuttered, utterly surprised by his guest. He hurried to take her cashmere wrap. “Lady Margaery, what a pleasant surprise. I-“

“Can I speak to Lord Baratheon and my brother?” she asked him in a businesslike tone.

“Ser Loras is here, but my lord is out. We are expecting him back at any moment.” Mathis was fussing round her, getting her refreshments and making her comfortable.

“Good, I can wait.” She said with a crisp efficiency. She looked around her, observing the genteelly shabby furnishings, the lack of space and a decent view. "It's a bit poky in here." She observed.

"We are pressed for space, but I think the young lords were aiming for discretion and secrecy, rather than comfort."

Loras came in, one of Renly’s beloved books in one hand, a glass of Arbor red in the other. 

“Hello trouble-“ she said softly, a smile on her face. She hadn’t realised how much she’d missed him until this moment.

 _Dearest Loras, her darling brother as close to her as her own shadow. No matter how well she got on with Garlan and Willas, it just wasn’t the same._ After seeing Rupert's grief for his missing brother, she appreciated Loras so much more.

 

“Maggie!” he swirled her up into his arms and hugged her. “What brings you to these neck of the woods, eh?”

"I missed you!" She said hugging him close, relieved and happy to be with her favourite brother once more. She'd worried so much since he'd decided to leave the regiment and share in Renly's banishment.

He stepped back and took a good look at her. "Darling, are you sure everything's alright? You look a bit pale and tired."

"I am a little, I suppose. It's been so busy with the theatre and court-"

"So you haven't had to leave. That's good, isn't it?" Loras asked.

"Well, we were up early to walk the dogs and then we had lunch with Lord Craven again, and there's rehearsal again, and they're driving us like Turks because of this new production obviously and afterwards well, I we had to dine at the Palace again, so..."

"We? Who's this we?"

Margaery had the grace to blush prettily.

Loras grinned. "Someone's living a busy life, sister? And who is this mysterious person you're spending so much time with?"

Her blush only deepened. “I need to speak to Renly and you, in private.” She told him once she'd pulled away. "Do you think we could manage it?"

Loras raised one eyebrow. “Sounds ominous-“

It’s nothing bad, well I don’t think so anyway.” 

\-----

 

“What was it that you wanted to see me about?” Renly asked, after they had all eaten dinner."Not that I'm not glad to see you, but it was rather a surprise when Mathis said you'd come to visit."

Margaery looked at him. She was a little nervous about telling him about Rupert and how serious things had gotten with the prince. “I…well, I…” 

“What is it? You seem so nervous. Most unlike you, dear girl?”

Loras looked at his sister carefully, knowing that she was perturbed by something and not sure of how she was going to break it to them. "Do you want me to wait outside?" he asked her quietly.

"No! It's just...this is very hard for me to say..."

"Start from the beginning." Renly urged, giving her a encouraging nod.

She took a deep breath, steeling herself to admit it. "I've found someone else, Renly."

"Seven Hells, when did this happen?" Renly's dark brows flew up in shock.

"For the love of all the Gods, please tell me it isn't Joffrey?"

Margaery was appalled by that. She turned her head, nearly spilling her goblet of wine. "Joffrey? Ugh, never! Loras, really?"

"Sorry! It's just that I know that they were trying to get you hitched to him next, and I just wondered..."

"I will never love Joffrey Baratheon." she told them both firmly. "I can't bear him, and especially after what I've learned."

"What do you mean: 'What you have learned, Margaery?'" Renly said in an ominous voice. She remembered his protective streak, and just how much he despised his nephew.

"He hurts women, Renly, and I'm not sure if he'd do it to me." She admitted.

Renly cursed under his breath. "Right, that's it! I'm going to call that bastard out, banishment or not!"

"Renly!"

"He won't damn well hurt you if I've broken every bone in his snivelling body!" his body tensed as if he was about to get up.

"Renly! Come on! Listen to me, please." she cajoled him. "I won't marry him. Not now!"

"Now that you've found someone else."

Margaery flushed a little, thinking of Rupert's kindness and strength. Just thinking of him made her feel a bit stronger.

"The Prince and I...we..."

Renly and Loras looked at each other, all the pieces of the puzzle coming together. The Prince? Who at court was referred to as 'the Prince'?

"You're in love with Rupert? Prince Rupert of the Rhine?" blurted out Loras.

She nodded, and started to smile, relieved to have got it off her chest at last.

"Seven Hells!" Loras said with feeling. "How did this happen?"

"I didn't mean for it to happen. It's just that we met on the royal barge and he was so kind to me, and then when I had to get that job at the theatre, he came to see and he was so kind and understanding. He's been helping me find a way to get rid of Joffrey, and we became friends."

"And now he's much more than a friend?"

She nodded, a relieved smile breaking out on her face. "Do you think worse of me, Renly? Because I-"

"Worse? No, not at all. I'm glad that you found someone. He does make you happy, doesn't he?" he looked at her, noticing her radiant smile. 

"Yes, Renly, he does."

Renly was quiet, knowing that the glow she had now hadn't been there since before they wed. Despite the fact that he loved Loras deeply and knew that he couldn't live without him, he couldn't help but feel responsible for her unhappiness, even though she had never blamed him for his failure as a husband.

_I want her to be happy, no matter what. If she believes that this man can be what she needs, if she loves him._

"What does Father think?" Loras asked, with a look that plainly told that he was slightly less convinced. "I imagine he's still got you engaged to Joffrey?"

That was a whole different issue she hadn't even got to yet. Judging by the conflict between the men already, she sincerely doubted that her father would take any news of her and the Prince becoming more involved with any positivity.

"It's not going to be easy. We both know this, but it's worth it, all of it. Just to be with him."

"No one deserves this more than you, lovey."

Margaery gave him a smile. He realised just how worried she had been about telling him about her new relationship with the Prince.

"Thank you, Renly." She hugged him tightly, happy tears welling up in her eyes.

"For what, my darling?" he said to her with a tender smile. Whatever happened, he would always be fond of her.

She gently rubbed her cheek against his. "For being so understanding."

* * *

There was little tolerance for love like theirs. Charles and his courtiers might be the most enthusiastic rakes in the country and bed as many jades and whores as they liked but tolerance of their sin was distinctly lacking.

He knew of several men at court who dallied in same-sex lust under the influence of drink or other intoxicants. Men that he knew frequented molly-houses of his accquaintance, but who would deny it fervently in the cold light of day; but he was a criminal for wanting to be with the man he'd loved faithful and true since they were lads? 

He and Loras were utterly committed to each other; even his brief failure of a marriage to dear sweet understanding Margaery hadn't dimmed his love for him. In the end he'd been forced to leave her, and agree to her request for a separation, before the deception destroyed all three of them and their friendship. 

_Thank God, she was still his friend even after what had happened. He appreciated her kindness and loyalty even at his lowest ebb._

_I never deserved her._

He'd felt bad for Margaery and the breakdown of their relationship, how he had let her down, but she'd encouraged him to leave her and follow his heart, telling him with that brave smile that wrenched his heart that she would survive.

If she's found love with someone else, then who am I to stand in her way? I just hope he can be everything that I couldn't for her.

* * *

The Royal Apartments, late evening

"Do you like her, Rupe? Come, tell me true?" Charles asked his cousin as he dined with him in private. It was a working dinner with papers spread over all available services, maps and reports well-marked and thumbed.

Rupert didn't answer, but Charles knew the older man well. If he was not mistaken, the prince was smitten. The moment he’d come across the couple in the park and Margaery had looked well and truly kissed, her sweet pink mouth swollen and reddened.

“So what's this about Lady Tyrell? You're surely getting most friendly with her? You certainly looked it at the park this morning. And you're taking her to lunch with Lord Craven?”

Rupert didn't look impressed by Charles's light-hearted teasing. He looked at his younger cousin forbiddingly, but Charles was not cowed by the stormy scowl on his face.

"What did you see this morning?"

"Enough, Rupe. You know, I can understand you having an ulterior motive in helping her, she is a gorgeous girl. You know Jamie and I wondered when you were going to make a move on her and you definitely picked your moment. Gods, you must have been so-" 

" There's nothing ulterior about it! Margaery is a good woman; she's sweet and intelligent with a good heart. She doesn't deserve to be sacrificed to family ambition. Joffrey will ruin her, I have no doubt of that."

"Why do you care so much what happens to the girl anyway? She discarded a match most ladies would strangle their own grandmothers to have, she walked away from a title. Most people would say that her family are only trying to do the best they can for her, in the circumstances.”

“She’s been hurt too much, by people she should have been able to trust. I gave the girl my word I would help her.” Rupert persisted, sticking to his guns. 

“Strong words there, Rupe, you’re really keen on this one? Come admit it, there's no shame in being attracted to a pretty girl.”

"Aye, that I am."  he admitted.

Charles smiled at his cousin. "I know I tease you unmercifully, but I just want you to be happy, Rupe. That's all.”

It felt strange to confide in Charles about something so personal in nature, but who else understood the situation? Who else could he really turn to? “She's with that pustule Joffrey Baratheon. Her family has got her betrothed to him.” 

“I can see why, though I can’t see that it’s right.” Charles agreed. He sighed, draining his goblet and holding out to be refilled. “What men will do to advance themselves… Cersei’s lands and Mace’s combined… well, it would make a rich inheritance, there no doubt about it.”

“At the cost of Margaery’s well-being? Of her happiness?” Rupert insisted.

“And her happiness is important to you, is it?”

“Aye, it is.” Rupert said begrudgingly.

“You’re really concerned about Lady Tyrell, aren’t you? You think this is serious? What do you know?”

“She’s afraid of him, terrified at the thought of being his, and there’s talk he abuses women.” 

“But they’re whores, Rupert. Surely Joffrey wouldn’t do that to a wife? Would he?”

Rupert winced at Charles’s casual callousness as if to say: _Whores are women too, or did you not notice once you’ve got their skirts up?_

“I doubt it would stop him, no matter how high-born she was.” He said, stubbornly digging his heels in. “I think she is right to fear him, and we should at the very least investigate.”

And how do you propose to do this? Who is going to stand up and be counted and denounce Joffrey?"

"It's all up in the air at the moment, but Pippa Foley seems to have information about his exploits in Paris. Last Margaery heard, she was going to persuade Ninon de Lenclos to divulge what she knew about the case."

Charles whistled under his breath. "La Belle L'Enclos! Well, it would be a bit of a sensation, but it might be a bit tricky to make it stick. I'm not sure if the law courts would accept an admission from a courtesan, no matter how celebrated and well-bred."

"By all accounts Ninon still has the girl who had to be retired in her care."

"And you think Lady Tyrell and you, I presume?..." 

Rupert nodded.

"-You think that you can convince this female to come forth?"

"Aye, would that be good enough? Physical Proof of abuse?" pressed Rupert.

“None of this is good…” Charles shook his head.

_So you don’t like the situation either? Well, why don’t you speak out and say something?_

Even as he thought it, he knew that was not how Charles operated. Charles was a good man, but he was indolent to a fault. If he did not have to take action, he would not. 

“What I want to know is why did she leave Renly?” Rupert mused, puzzled by the issue. “They’re still on good terms and he didn’t mistreat her. She says very little about it, so why would she risk disgrace or worse? She walked away from a title.”

Charles’s face set in granite lines. Evidently Renly’s transgression had still not been forgiven yet. “I’m not surprised she left that young man eventually. I don’t blame her. But she queered her pitch when she divorced him. That really did not help her reputation at all. And so Joffrey seemed to be the ideal solution.”

“But we can clearly see he’s not? That he's a danger to any female, let alone one who is betrothed to him? You see why Lady Tyrell cannot be forced to marry that man?”

“So it appears.”

“I can’t say that I’ve ever liked that boy, I can’t help but say. He’s not much like Robert.” He contented himself with saying.

_Or any of the Baratheon brothers..._

Rupert had known the elder Baratheon brothers Robert and Stannis well. Robert had been one of his wildest and bravest captains of his cavalry, an absolute warrior on horseback, and stern loyal disciplinarian Stannis at sea had sailed with him on his epic journeys to Africa and the Indies during his career as a privateer. 

Every Baratheon he had ever known had been tall and broad shouldered with that distinctive raven dark hair and blue eyes; that strong family resemblance undiluted through the generations.

How Joffrey had managed to inherit his mother’s golden blond hair and green eyes had always been rather a mystery to him. A mystery he tried damned hard not to think about, a long-ago memory of Cersei kissing him ardently, aroused and excited by his touch. The terrible moment she’d let slip a secret he’d never wanted to know. Another man’s name on her sweet faithless lips…

Jaime...

“Margaery frets about leaving him.” He told Charles. “And it would not be honorable to pursue her while she is still bound to him."

“I can see why.” 

"You can?"

“A girl like her, after the scandal of her husband and the breakdown of that marriage she can't risk losing this advantageous match. This is her last chance for a respectable future. Mace Tyrell is only trying to do what is best for her, I suppose.”

He hadn’t understood that Margaery had so much to lose from embarking on whatever they had between them. He knew that he would have trouble relinquishing her now that he’d kissed her.

_I should have had the self-control to say no, he told himself, but how could I have resisted her looking up at me like that? Those bright tawny hazel eyes, those sweet kissable lips raised to mine. The urgency and longing in her voice as she told him: I want you, ser._

He was in far too deep and every sensible bone in his body was telling him to walk away, but he couldn’t. 

"So you are definitely courting her then?"

“Maybe.” He conceded.

Charles beamed in satisfaction, pleased beyond measure that his match-making had yielded such fruit.

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up, Charles.”

“Why ever not?” Charles asked, “The lady is undeniably fond of you, any fool could see it.” 

Rupert’s broad shoulders slumped in despondency. “How can this ever work? She’s so young and beautiful, and I am old enough to be her father?”

Charles noticed the yearning in his cousin’s voice. _Gods, he’s further gone than I originally imagined._

“What business do I have courting a girl like that? When I cannot offer her anything honourable in exchange? Baratheon may be a heel, but at least he offers to wed her.” 

“You’re thinking of marriage?” Charles raised his eyebrows.

“I didn’t say that, but-“

Charles exhaled through his teeth. “It’d be a bit of a _mésalliance._ I mean - don’t get me wrong. She’s a lovely lass, and you’d be wonderful together, but she’s a Tyrell.”

“And so?”

“She isn’t royal, Rupert." the king said reluctantly.

"I don't a damn about that! I care for her, not her House or her title. What good has my title ever done me? Everything I have achieved and won in my life has been through my own labours, not because of my father or mother."

"You're in love with her, aren't you cousin?" Charles said quietly, realising that he had hit upon the crux of the matter. "That's the reason you cannot bear the thought of Joffrey laying a hand on her. It's because you want her for yourself, isn't it? Rupert, you're madly in love."

_Who would have thought when I indulged in that idle bit of matchmaking on the royal barge that it would have such results?_

"God help me, but I am."

" I’m just saying that Carl-Louis won’t like it, and he’s not inclined to do you any favours. Not after the von Degenfeld affair; and your mother’s will.” Charles’s mouth curled into a cynical smile. “You know he still writes to me regularly complaining that you won’t return the jewels or return to the Palatine and give him a legal heir, since none of his children by Louise can inherit.” 

“The jewels were left to me as executor of her will." Rupert protested hotly. "My mother wanted nothing to do with Carl-Louis -her favourite- after she’d finally seen his true colours, and how disloyal he was to his own family.”

Charles could understand that. _After all, hadn’t Carl-Louis shown his disloyalty and self-interest by siding with Parliament and accepting their pension, even as Rupert and Maurice fought for his father?_

Rupert scowled, genuinely mortified and irritated by the family scandal once more. “How was I meant to know what the daft bastard was up to? Carrying on behind his wife’s back with Louise like that? A most uncomfortable situation all round. And as for the other issue well,-” his mouth set in a determined line. “I took a solemn vow that day he closed the gates of Heidelberg to me and denied me my apanage, which was mine by rights.”

Charles realised once more how deep the roots of Rupert’s resentment ran towards his elder brother.

“I will never set foot in my homeland ever again. My home is here in the land that I love, if you’ll have me?”

Charles heard the note of insecurity in his cousin’s voice. _After all this time, after all his loyal service to my father and myself does he still doubt his place at the royal side?_

“Of course I will. You know how I value you, cousin.” he said earnestly. he sighed, unable to see his way out of this morass. “If only your brother could be persuaded, but he's a slippery stubborn bugger. I know him; he won't bend!"

"You don't have to tell me, Charles. I know!"

“You know what Carl-Louis is like then, Rupe. Don’t underestimate his ill-feeling or his schemes to bind you to his will. He won't let you marry a mere countess, for it would spoil his plans."

“Then what hope is there for Margaery and I? If I cannot even offer her that?”

Charles laid his hand on Rupert’s shoulder. “I truly hope it works out for you both, Rupert. Margaery’s a lovely girl and I think she’d be good for you, just as you’re good for her.”

Rupert gave Charles a sharp glance, sensing there was a sting in the tale. “I can’t help but hear a ‘but’ in your words?”

Charles sighed, having much sympathy for his love-struck cousin. “But if you want my advice, marriage is out of the question. Set her up in a nice house, buy her whatever she desires. There's no shame in her becoming your mistress."

Rupert stiffened a little, recoiling from a solution his rigid notion of honour couldn't help but find distasteful. 

"If you must, wed her secretly. Many do it, especially in our position.” Charles said blithely.

 _And look at the trouble it's caused you with Jemmy! Is that what happened with poor foolish Lucy Walter? Did you offer her a mock-marriage, an empty sham and conveniently forget your obligation once you regained your birthright?_

"Then what can I offer her, Charles? Nothing."

“That's not true, don't be such a pessimist! You need to talk, to thrash this out between you, but the girl might surprise you. If this is what you both want, then you have to believe in it and fight for it. Man was not made to be alone, dear cousin.” He said quietly. “Have faith that things will work out as they are meant.”

* * *

Madam Bennet's, that evening

Joffrey couldn't believe Monmouth's gloating comment. "You have to be japing!"

“Not a bit! I know full what I overheard, Baratheon!” his friend crowed. "Father was discussing it with him. I was going to drop in and ask for an increase in my allowance, but I heard them talking and decided to stay my hand."

_More like you were too scared to interrupt, for you knew that you would be refused even more money from the Privy Purse. Jemmy already got a sizeable allowance from his doting father as it was, but his greed was insatiable. But even a king's indulgence had it's limits._

"Margaery and Prince Rupert?" Joffrey's voice rose in disbelief, appalled to hear that his suspicions and the whispers of those troublesome bints Betty Felton and Bella Dalgleish were right. Gods, how his mother would nag if she found out!

"Damn me, he's a lucky old devil. I'd give a bloody fortune to have a go on that. Just once-" Scrope's voice trailed away as Joffrey glared at his inappropriate comment about his betrothed. Carr Scrope set himself to the task of dallying with his half-drunk wench he was entertaining on his lap “-no offence, Joff!”

Monmouth smirked. "The old roué is completely smitten with her. He spends an absolute fortune on her, dances attendance on the woman daily. Nothing is too good for her.”

_The little bastard thinks this is funny. He’s enjoying all this!_

"What can she want with such an old man? What use is he going to be to her?” Joffrey couldn’t help sneering even though he had a strong sense of foreboding.

Monmouth grinned, enjoying Joffrey's annoyance. "Just because he's a bit older than us doesn't mean he isn't capable of giving her a good seeing to! Pater is still as vigorous as ever even heading into in his forties. Apparently, it runs in the family. We Stuarts are a lustful bunch. We start early and fuck like rams even into our twilight years-"

"But he's so dour and dull. So serious and devoted to his work? Tinkering with those machines and experiments-"

“Apparently she's very interested in his inventions. And she seems to find him amusing. She says his Highness has a very dry wit.”

“She admires his bravery and the whole legend around him. I mean you have to admit he is a living legend. Rupert the Devil!”

He hated the way the other men spoke of the prince, as if he was a god. _He’s trying to steal my fiancée with no remorse, while they all fawn over him? Arrogant foreign bastard!_

"This has got to be some kind of a joke!" Joffrey hissed, pacing in discontent. He did not like the half-admiring tone of his friends about his rival.

She wouldn't dare seriously cheat on him, she wouldn't dare! Sure she had most likely slept with the King; that was a given. Charles exercised his ‘droit de seigneur’ on any pretty high-born woman at his court, and he was not to be denied.

 _You could hardly even call it cheating really, even if he didn't like it much._ His mother had ingrained into him how little it mattered and how fortunate that they were that the king provided for them all, mostly because of Myrcella and Tommen. 

But Prince Rupert was an entirely different matter. He was powerful and charismatic enough to take Margaery from him if he so desired, and there would be nothing he could do, once the elder man played his hand.

 _I have to increase my hold on her. By any means possible._ An idea lodged itself into his brain, a wicked tendril of mischief and malice. 

\----

“Jemmy?” Joffrey asked once it was just the two of them and their doxies.

The young duke turned towards Joffrey. “What is it, Baratheon?”

“D’ye think she’s serious ‘bout your uncle?” Joffrey asked keenly.

“Uncle Rupert isn’t one for casual affairs like my father. He’s had the occasional actress, who hasn’t, but he’s been pretty monogamous to his women. He was with Frances Bard for ages and acknowledges her brat as his own, even though he didn’t have to. But he left her recently, despite the fact she had his child.” 

“Why?”

“The old duffer is an absolute stickler for honour, and he didn’t believe in staying with someone when his heart was engaged elsewhere apparently. The two of them had been arguing for ages anyway, but Frances thought she’d keep him if she became pregnant.” 

“More fool, her! Silly wench!” Joffrey didn’t like the sound of that at all.

"I need to do something to hold on to my fiancée. I can’t risk those Tyrell lands going to anyone else. Are you game?"

Monmouth looked at him, his handsome face creased by a puzzled frown."You want me to help you?"

Joffrey made an impatient movement, irritated by how long it took for Jemmy to grasp what he wanted. “Come Jemmy you know that if you help it will be of benefit to you!”

"Aye, what benefit?” Jemmy said eventually.

“D’ye remember Barbara wanted you to have a ménage a trois with –“

Jemmy seized his arm, his face going scarlet with embarrassment. “Shush! It is meant to be a secret, Joff! If father ever found out, he'd cut me off!…”

Joffrey couldn't help being somewhat cynically amused by the fact he was dallying with his father's mistress, and he himself was sleeping with her as well. _Damn me, is there a single man at court she **isn't** sleeping with?_

“You me and Margaery. How about it?” he threw the idea out there, waiting for his friend to take the lure.

Jemmy frowned a little, not convinced by Joffrey’s persuasion. “Is she going to agree to this? She’s never agreed to your attentions so far?” he pointed out quite reasonably, for him.

Joffrey scowled. _Wasn’t it just like Jemmy to suddenly become so damned perceptive?_

“Lady Margaery won’t have a choice, Jemmy.” Joffrey's voice took on a ruthless tone, more than a little reminiscent of his mother. "Not once we've finished with her."

* * *

Joffrey ground his teeth as he saw Margaery in the open top carriage riding round with Prince Rupert, his arm around her. The Stark girls were with her, talking animatedly as they drove past.

_So she was ignoring his strictures, defying him and going out with the prince. Couldn't she see what a laughing-stock she was making of him?_

He'd always enjoyed having the upper hand in their relationship. Subtly implying he could dump her at any moment to the detriment of her reputation at court. Attempting to crush that exuberance of spirit that the other courtiers and the king seemed to love.

_She was slipping out of his control day by day and he didn't like it one bit._

She saw her smile up at the Prince, his hand tenderly caressing her face as he bent to murmur something in her ear. Her eyes sparkled with happiness as she responded to him, their gazes meeting in a languorous eye-meet which threatened to scorch the air between them.

 _Is he cuddling her? He is! He’s damned cuddling her! What the hell!_ Joffrey seethed. _And worse, she enjoys it. She’s never looked at me like that, not once!_

The bastard is courting her right under my nose and there's bugger all I can do about it!

\-----

Hyde Park, Saturday afternoon

When he and Jemmy caught up with their party in Hyde Park, Margaery was perched on the Prince's lap and they were midway through a very intimate and cosy picnic. Prince Rupert was affectionately feeding her strawberries, gazing at her sweet pink mouth as if he would very much like to kiss her right that minute. His arm was round her trim waist, keeping her steady. Neither of them was trying to hide the obvious physical intimacy between them.

Margaery was looking at him under her lashes, smiling at something that he was murmuring to her in her ear. She leaned closer to him, her face tilted towards his.

Joffrey felt that this was the best time to intervene. 

_God's bones was he going to kiss her right in front of me?_ Joffrey fumed.

For one wild moment he wanted to demand satisfaction from the older man, but he knew that he would be in trouble with the law and the king who had strictly forbidden the practice, and the fact that Rupert was famed as a formidable shot and fencer and would probably make mincemeat out of him even at his age.

"Lady Margaery, what the hell do you think you are doing?"

She started a little in surprise and fear, but Rupert's arm tightened round her waist. She clung to the older man, her fists gripping the blue silk of his coat. He leaned forward, concern in his eyes and she shook her head minutely.

"I'll deal with this." she leaned close and said.

"Will you all excuse me for a moment?" Margaery announced in a deceptively pleasant tone of voice. She reluctantly got up, shaking out the heliotrope satin of her summer dress. "Hopefully this shouldn't take long."

\-----

The moment she reluctantly joined Joffrey she knew he was dying to fight and normally she would have backed down or made some apology even if she didn't mean it to keep the peace, but today she wasn't as willing to be so reasonable. He didn't own her yet, and she knew he pleased himself as he liked. _Why should he object spending time with her own damned friends too?_

"Is there any reason why you decided to cause a scene there? Why are you here anyway?"

He glared at her. "He was practically kissing and toying with you and you were letting him! What am I meant to think?"

“Rupert is a friend! It's you who makes a molehill out of it when there's nothing going on. You don't trust me-“ she retorted going on the counter-attack, her dainty little chin thrust out pugnaciously. She was spoiling for a fight and didn't care. How dare he spoil their wonderful day out, sulking and accusing her of all sorts when she'd done nothing?

“A friend who smothers you in priceless gems! A man who stares at you as if you were a succulent steak!” Joffrey sneered, interrupting her protests. “Oh yes, I know about ‘friends’ like that!”

_No, Joffrey. Prince Rupert looks at me like a man should when he desires a woman. It's a shame you cannot tell the difference._

"Everyone knows he lusts after you, even though he's old enough to be your father and you encourage him!"

"Lusts after me?"

Joffrey scoffed, annoyed by the fact that she didn't even remotely deny she was encouraging him. "Don't act stupid, Margaery, the way he stares at you. It's perfectly obvious what he wants!"

"Joffrey, you need to stop." She sighed. “Why must you always make scenes?”

"Why shouldn’t I, when you're intent on making a fool out of me?" 

“I’m not! I just want to spend time with my friends! There’s no crime in it?” her voice rose in annoyance. She bunched her fist in the light floaty silk of her gown, her jaw working for a moment.

He wasn’t even listening to her. “I warn you my lady, I won't wear horns like some poor cuckold. I expect obedience from my wife and betrothed."

He grabbed her arm, holding her in a cruel painful grip.

Margaery pulled away and glared at him, angered by his petty unreasonable possessiveness. _What right does he have to treat me so in public. He doesn’t care a whit for me. He cheats on me all the time. What right has he to be jealous of me?_

“Unhand me, ser.” She hissed in her iciest voice. “Or do you want me to call the prince over?”

She held his gaze, not backing down.

"Don't think for one moment that I won't do it."

"Do you have no shame, Lady Tyrell?"

Her chin went up, provoked into defiance. "Joffrey, Rupert is my friend. I have nothing to be ashamed of." 

"Jade!" he gripped her hard enough to redden her delicate wrist. Joffrey vindictively hoped he'd bruised the faithless bitch.

She prised herself from his grip, honey-gold eyes blazing. Joffrey had never seen such a look of utter loathing -for him!- on her face before. _My God, she really does despise me, doesn't she?_

"If you cans't not be civil to my friends and I, then I suggest you leave now, ser!" Margaery snapped as she swept gracefully back to her friends and more infuriatingly than ever resumed her place on Rupert's lap, knowing he could do nothing publicly to force her to stop, short of dragging her off him by her curly hair. 

Look, now she was deliberately touching him even more, wriggling in his rival's lap just to infuriate him.

The prince quirked his brow in a picture of withering scorn before turning his attention to the delectable woman he had on his lap.

Joffrey seethed and boiled with jealousy, nearly choked with hatred.

_I should have listened to Mother. That impudent insolent witch, flouting me when she's the one who needs this match to restore her good name!_

Joffrey gave the group one more resentful glance as he stomped away. Jemmy, the damned traitor was stuffing his face with their delicious picnic and making eyes at the Lady Sansa.

_As if he ever had any success with that frigid Northern Rose! She wouldn't even give it up to the King himself, by all accounts. What made Jemmy remotely think he had what it took?_

"Are ye coming, Jemmy?" he called.

Jemmy gave him an apologetic shrug. "Er, think I'll linger for a bit. Uncle and the girls were nice enough to invite me to this wonderful repast. These savoury pastries are amazing."

Sansa gave the young duke a smile as dazzling as the pearls round her fair throat. "Thank you, your Grace, they are from a recipe my mother taught us at Winterfell."

\-----

Joffrey stormed away, furious at the singular lack of support from his erstwhile best friend. _How dare he change his allegiance! Typical bloody Stuart, as soon as a bit of skirt was involved, all sense of loyalty went out of the window!_

 _Fine, I see that I will have to do this myself!_ he seethed. _You'll see, you conniving little rosebud, you arrogant old fool! How I shall be revenged on the whole lot of you!_


	8. Dredging up the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barbara meets up with Margaery and warns her that Cersei is gunning for her and Rupert and dredges up some old history. When Margaery tries to find out more from Lysa Arryn, it helps her make a decision about her future.

The Royal Exchange

Margaery was shopping at the exchange and waiting to meet Rupert and Lord Craven when she came across Barbara Palmer, laden with shopping. Margaery looked at her purchases, wondering at the fortune she must have spent today. Barbara was very genial and beamed as soon as he saw her.

“Lady Tyrell. How lovely to see you! We were saying at court how you’d disappeared from sight recently.” She linked her arm in hers, sweeping away any protests with the sheer force of her personality. "You will do me the pleasure of dropping into my town house at King Street, won't ye?"

Margaery couldn’t help being a bit wary of the other woman and her motives, particularly as the Villiers as a rule had no love for her. Barbara was notoriously bitchy especially to females she regarded as a threat, and the rumours about her and Charles were still circulating. 

_Is she going to shank me as soon as I get into her carriage. Slip me a potion while she offers me a drink?_ Frankly Margaery wouldn't put it past her.

"It won't be for long, I just want to catch up with you. Come join me, and I'll show you what I've bought. I've spent an absolute fortune today!"

"Courtesy of the Privy Purse, of course."

Barbara laughed, unperturbed by Margaery's comment. Criticism just rolled off her like water off a salmon's side. "My dear girl, I've got to have some advantages to my position, haven't I? Charles is so generous, he doesn't mind." She stopped by a carriage, the most lavish and well-appointed of the vehicles lined up. "This is mine. Well? Aren't you coming?"

* * *

Lady Castlemaine's residence, King Street

“So what was it that you wanted to speak to me about?” Margaery asked as soon as they reached Barbara's lavish house on King Street, convenient near to Whitehall Palace for the king to drop in.

“Who said that I wanted something of you, dear? Can I not just want the pleasure of your company, darling?” Barbara exclaimed with a light careless tinkle as she sat down, indicating for her servant to bring them a couple of bottles of Arbor Gold. "Sit down dear, you're hovering."

Margaery just gave her a look, not willing to play games.

Barbara sighed eventually, patting the seat beside her. “Very well, God, you are a tough customer, ain’t ye? You’re not really sleeping with the king, are ye?”

Margaery blinked at her bluntness, sinking into the seat. _Well, she certainly mincing her words, is she?_ "I don’t see that it’s any of your business, Lady Castlemaine, with all due respect.”

Barbara’s full pouty mouth curved upward and her striking violet-blue eyes sparkled, as if she’d had something confirmed. “I doubt you are swiving him, and even if you are I doubt it’s anything serious, not worth fretting about. Why should I feel threatened?" She raised a finely groomed brow. "Why are you fidgeting like that, Margaery dear?"

"Your cousin isn't here, is he? I'm not about to get interrogated by him too?"

"George? Oh, do you not like him?"

She sniffed in disdain. “I don’t trust Lord Buckingham. It can hardly be a surprise to you, Lady Castlemaine?” Barbara smirked, leaning forward conspiratorially. “No one trusts Cousin George, darling. I don't hold it against you, and it's true he likes to needle you. It's the Stark girl he won't stop going on about.” 

Margaery couldn't help being alarmed by that. _George and his schemes; his casual betrayal of everyone in his accquaintance, his obsession with Evie Ravensbourne and his vindictive revenge once she'd refused his advances. Why was he paying such close attention to Sansa? I need to keep an eye out for him, and warn her he is up to no good._

"You're not going to tell me that nothing's going on are you, darling? You know Hyde Park is very busy this time of year. You couldn't have picked a more obvious spot to make things public. On a Saturday, when everyone is promenading as well..."

"There's nothing to go public about. The Prince is a friend." Margaery said evenly. "I invited him to join our picnic, that's all."

Barbara tilted her head , amused by Margaery's denial. “Darling seriously, you might be able to fool the others, but I'm an old hand. You're besotted with him." 

"Hardly-" Margaery tried to laugh it off.

"The way you were perched on his lap with his arm around you, gazing into his eyes...him feeding you strawberries...Really, I think he’s a mite too serious for me, but I can surely see the appeal. I wish you well, I really do. But you might want to be wary of Lady Casterley." Barbara confided, her voice lowering.

“Cersei?”

“Cersei Lannister Baratheon hates him. Absolutely despises the man, and the feeling’s mutual. ‘Tis old bad blood I imagine, from years ago, but you know Lannisters- they love to hold a grudge.”

Margaery might have known that Cersei hated her. The lady barely even hid her hatred, but what on earth would she have against Rupert? “But why does she hate him?”

Barbara’s smirk stretched over her pretty face. Margaery had no doubt that she was enjoying herself and wading into this latest intrigue immensely.

“Old scandal, ancient history of course but if anyone knows why they hate each other, it would be Lysa Arryn.”

"Lysa Arryn, what's she got to do with Cersei. And Rupert?"

"Really, you need to dig into old scandals if you want to succeed at court. Surely your mother or that Grandmother of yours would have mentioned something. Or don't they know yet how serious it is with the Prince?" Barbara insinuated with a sly smile.

She was not going to admit any of the sort to Barbara, or give her any ammunition. "He's a friend."

Barbara's lush ripe mouth twitched in amusement. "Yes, Margaery, and I'm a Carmelite Nun! Anyway, that's not what I wanted to say. Lysa Arryn was Prince Maurice's mistress all those years ago."

"Lysa?" blurted out Margaery in surprise. She could scarcely imagine it. Lysa Arryn, with her childbirth thickened body and petulant miserable face, usually larded with far too much paint, patches and jewellry. She was a mistress? She remembered that young handsome face from the portrait in Rupert's gallery with those youthful soft planes of his face, the dark roguish eyes twinkling with mischief. That gorgeous doomed prince... He was infatuated with Lysa?

Barbara was still gossiping. "In her day she was meant to be really rather pretty. Her and her sister Catelyn were known as 'The Riverrun Roses'. Your friend Lady Sansa looks a bit like her in her prime, I would say. I saw a lovely van Dyck of her and Lady Catelyn in one of my friend's country houses.Of course-" Barbara wrinkled her nose. "- she really has let herself go, frankly!"

"I can't imagine it."

Barbara was in full flow, waving her wine-glass with drunken vigour, like she was conducting a concert. "Apparently it was some grand passion between campaigns, he was mad about her. Cersei, by all accounts, wanted Rupert as her friend got Maurice. She's so damn competitive, she had to go one better and back in the day they all wanted him..."

"Her and Rupert. So what happened then?"

_Please, by all the gods, tell me they were never lovers!_

"Well no one knows, but they dislike each other quite blatantly. You should ask him."

_It seemed there was quite a lot she had to ask Rupert._

"So what, are you saying that Cersei is jealous?"

Barbara leered in amusement. "You are still engaged to Joffrey, aren't you?"

Margaery made a face, as she really did not wanted to be reminded of that unpleasant fact.

The older woman's amusement spread over her face. She was obviously enjoying herself immensely. "So imagine her rage when she finds out her son loses a wealthy match to the one man who eluded her grasp. Put it this way, darling. I wouldn't like to be you."

* * *

That night, Whitehall

Lysa Arryn was glued to the gaming table, even though she was losing quite a sizeable amount. Margaery sat beside her and tried to get her to focus on their conversation, get her away from the table and get the information that Barbara hinted at, but she was distracted at the prospect of losing even more at lasquenet.

 _She never seems truly happy,_ thought Margaery, noticing the lines of care and misery carved deep into her face. The rumours were that she married Lord Jon Arryn for money and prestige but lived very separate lives, estranged from each other.

"That's it, I'm done for the night." Lysa finally got up from the table.

Margaery decided to seize her chance as Lysa went to get some fresh air.

"Lady Arryn, may I join you for a moment?" Margaery suggested, nabbing a bottle of Dornish red and two glasses. "Perhaps we could share a tipple in the gardens?"

* * *

Whitehall Privy Gardens

"So is it true?” Lysa asked, once they were alone in the garden. She was very eagerly getting stuck into the alcohol. "Everyone at court thinks it Charles who's wooing you, but it didn't make sense, given the fact the Prince and you are inseparable now. He attends many of your performances, doesn't he? And they say you dine with him in his apartments more days than not?"

Margaery didn’t want to give the rest of the grasping court ladies any ammunition to wound her further but she really did want to find out what had happened. There had to be more to the tale than Barbara had implied.

“Rupert has been very kind to me. He’s a good friend.”

"Aye, he is still...for Maurice's sake. 'Tis kind of him to remember." Lysa’s face softened for a moment. She looked younger and hopeful, the worn lines of her face melting away. 

Margaery could suddenly understand why Barbara had said that once upon a time Lysa was the image of Sansa, as was Lady Catelyn. Her faded blue eyes sparked with life once more. It was rather sad to see the wreckage of Lysa’s beauty appear for a brief moment on her face.

“Maurice…I haven’t allowed myself to think of him in years…” She gave Margaery a dreamy little smile, lost in remembrance of the past.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to bring up painful memories, Lady Arryn.” She said filling her glass to the brim.

Lysa winced as if she couldn't bear the title, like a lash on sensitive flesh. Margaery found she kind of sympathised with her distaste. Wasn't that exactly how she reacted to Joffrey? Would she spend her married life wincing at being addressed as 'Lady Baratheon'?

“No, it’s is fine. It was so long ago that it seems like a dream nearly vanished. Old history that no one remembers now.” Lysa's voice trailed away wistfully.

"You sound like you cared for Prince Maurice a great deal." Margaery listened with compassion. "I saw a portrait of him at the Prince's. He still misses him so much."

“Maurice was so charming, such a rogue! We met at Oxford during the War when their regiment came back in triumph from that first campaign and well, we fell in love, I admit it. Head over heels..." her eyes brimmed over in maudlin remembrance, for those lost glorious days of her youth, and the gallant dashing prince she'd adored. "In many ways he was the love of my young life."

_Is this how I'll sound in future years, if I don't at least try and seize some moment of happiness? In twenty years time, will I be dreaming of the man I loved and let go? The one who got away?_

"Cersei was always so competitive and she simply couldn’t bear it that Maurice adored me and I spent time with the brothers."

"Oh aye, she tried to seduce him.”

Margaery put her glass down beside her, before she made a fool of herself and dropped it in shock.

_No wonder Cersei was jealous of them both, and wished her ill!_

"Was he is in love with her, do you think?"

Lysa shook her head, a cynical smile on her face as she sipped her wine.“In love? No, I don’t think so."

Margaery was surprised at the strength of her opinion. She wondered exactly what had happened to their relationship. She had been under the opinion that her and Cersei were friends but it seemed the truth was more complicated.

"You seem very sure of that."

"She never understood him, the real Rupert anyway. He was arrogant and haughty at times, but people didn't know that it was because he was under so much pressure. The old king expected so much of him...and people looked down on him and Maurice because they worked, because they fought for their uncle. How was it their fault they lost their birthright?"

"So they liked each other not. And yet..." _And yet she tried to seduce him._ The thought of Cersei kissing him made her feel distinctly odd. Just a little jealousy, maybe?

"I don’t think he really liked her personality that much, to be honest. They argued constantly, and she could not abide Boye at all. As far as that was concerned, he always was wary of people who didn’t like Boye." 

"Boye?"

"His hunting poodle, he brought with him from the Continent. He used to say Boye was one of his best friends. If Boye didn’t take to someone, he tended not to trust them.”

_So this was some weird twisted love-hate relationship thing, a youthful aberration? Can I live with that? Why does she hold it against him years later?_

Lysa's tongue was loosened by the wine, becoming highly indiscreet. "She had to have him, she was obsessed by that point and he well, he had reasons of his own to be flattered that an exquisite girl like Cersei wanted him. He was pretty cut up about Mary Villiers Stuart– that’s who we all knew he truly loved, but he couldn’t have her."

She couldn't imagine that going too well with the Cersei she knew with her pride. Lady Casterley would have hated the thought of her being second best.

"I don’t know how it ended, but one night he came in and looked like he’d seen a ghost. He was white at the lips; I honestly thought that he was going to be sick! Maurice sent me back to my lodging and wouldn’t talk about it, but from that day Rupert wanted nothing to do with her."

* * *

Margaery had a lot to think about as she made her way home that night. Lysa's story made a real impression on her, and her mourning Prince Maurice and her perspective on a younger Rupert made her think.

 _I had no idea she was so miserable with Lord Arryn._ Jon was significantly older than his wife and there were rumours at court that she sought consolation in younger arms, indulging in conspicuous consumption to fill a void inside.

_Is that what I have to look forward to, if I go through with the match to Joffrey as my father wants? I despise him already, I don't trust him and now he's acting ridiculously jealous, which is sheer hypocrisy as I know he sleeps around with any number of doxies and expects me not to say a word!_

_I can't let that happen to me!_ If she'd had any doubts about seeking her freedom from Joffrey and falling for the Prince, they had gone. She rubbed her wrist unconsciously, thinking about his face as they argued in the park and she'd had to threaten him with calling the Prince over to defend her.

_I will never allow myself to end up like Lysa Arryn!_


	9. Debts and Deceptions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joffrey gets himself into a sticky situation in a gaming den, Petyr Baelish gloats and prides himself on his information network and Cersei starts her campaign of disinformation on Francesca Bard.

Joffrey and his knot of slightly more disreputable friends had been at the gambling hell for some time.it was near daylight and the fug from the tallow candles left a haze in the air, along with the scent of spilled wine, brandy, stale food and unwashed bodies.

Gambling was a mania at court, fortunes changed hands at the turn of a card or toss of the dice. Even the King; the Duke and Duchess of York; James, Duke of Monmouth and the Queen indulged in the odd game. Barbara and Cersei's gambling debts were the scandal of Europe as Lady Castlemaine in particular blew eye-watering amounts of money on her pleasures, all funded by the Privy Purse. 

But for those who desired a more illicit thrill, more risk and danger, a visit to one of the capital's secret gaming dens provided much more dangerous and lucrative spoils. Joffrey and his coterie were avid fans - especially as the young lord was not averse to skewing the odds in his favour. 

He gave one last throw of the dice, eager to collect his illicit winnings and then make his way to Damaris Page's with the lads for a tumble with some of their snooty high-priced sluts. The way those bints carried on, you'd think their snatches were gilt-lined!

_A most satisfactory night Joffrey gloated, scooping up his winnings from that game. Like taking sweetmeats from Tommen, frankly._

“Could we have a word, Lord Baratheon?”

The henchmen loomed over him, looking as if they would not take no for an answer. Joffrey thought about resisting, but realised he was surrounded and outnumbered.

“Stay here lads, just having a quick word with these er… gentlemen.” he said hastily, trying his hardest to save his face.

Lost in the addictive high of the game, his companions barely even noticed his absence.

* * *

Joffrey was dragged in silence up a rickety flight of stairs to the back office of the gaming hell. The henchmen were none too gentle handling him either, to his anger and indignation. 

"Ouch, you cretins, there's no need for that, is there? I'm coming with ye of my own free will!" he snapped, privately getting a bit scared. This was a great deal more serious than he had ever expected. the owner, a rough old cove named Elisha Drinkwater was a fearsome man with an intimidating presence and manner.

 

Drinkwater glared at the spoiled drunken lord from across the table. The arrogant bastard hadn’t even attempted to hide the fact that he was playing with loaded dice in his establishment.

If It wasn’t for the fact that men like him brought money into the establishment he would have turned this fop over to his boys. 

"We’ve had too many complaints about suspect play recently. All connected with your group. Have ye anything to say about this?"

Joffrey gave him an arrogant shrug, unbothered by the accusation of what he saw as inferiors. A closer look would reveal his bravado in the face of danger. "I don't see what this has got to do with me-"

Elisha didn't even bother addressing Joffrey. he turned to his waiting henchmen who loomed ready to spring into action. One of them bared his teeth menacingly at Joffrey. "Search his pockets."

Two hulking henchmen seized him and rifled his pockets, cuffing and pushing him without mercy.

Joffrey struggled in their grip, trying to get free, but they were relentless. “This is an outrage! D’ye manhandle all your customers?"

Drinkwater took no notice of Joffrey's protests as his men pummeled and pushed him about. "That's enough for now, lads." They fell away instantly at his command.

Drinkwater pulled out two sets of dice from Joffrey's pockets. He raised his eyebrows at the hapless lord. "Would you like ter explain these?"

Joffrey gave a nervous laugh, sure that the game was up. “Come sers, you know this was naught but a misunderstanding. Surely you don't want to antagonise one of your best customer?" 

Drinkwater leant forward in his seat, pinning him with that eerie gaze.

"Well then, if that’s the case, ye’ll no object to proving it, will ye?"

Joffrey had hoped it wouldn't come to this. The situation was getting worse by the moment. _As soon as they see how the dice fall, the game is up._

"How?"

Drinkwater seemed to be enjoying himself in his own dour dark fashion. Gods, this was a ruthless and vicious creature. "Throw them."

Joffrey started to laugh nervously, spreading his hands in disbelief. “Come, is this really quite necessary?”

Elisha’s face didn’t move, not remotely convinced of Joffrey's innocence. “Throw them, ser. Now."

Joffrey extended his hand and threw the dice with obvious reluctance.

"See, what did I tell you? Weighted-" one of the men gloated.

Drinkwater's face didn't move, though his pale eyes gleamed with malicious triumph. "Throw them again."

"I-"

Drinkwater didn't even have to say anything, just inclined his head in a vaguely threatening fashion. Joffrey knew the man was not going to let him off in the slightest.

The dice showed the same incriminating score: six and four.

“This proves nothing! You can’t accuse me, I’ve been set up." he whined, swiftly seeing his chances of escaping disappearing by the moment.

"Now you're going to tell us these dice aren't yours, are ye?" Drinkwater smirked openly mocking him. Joffrey was convinced that he hadn't hated someone so common in a long time.

"You have no proof."

Drinkwater started to laugh, a dark grinding metallic sound like steel being crushed in the jaws of a monster. "D'ye take us for fools? We've been watching your party for weeks now. This isn't just one night of dodgy play. You've been cheating this house for months."

Hands grabbed him, pinning him to the seat while another pushed his head back throttling him in a harsh grip. He couldn't move to avoid the blows which he knew was coming. Drinkwater watched with impassive face as his henchmen worked Joffrey over.

Joffrey grunted, the breath driven out of his body by the meaty fist of one of the henchmen. he ached all over, he knew he would be a mass of bruises in the morning.

Elisha leaned forward, his pale colourless eyes glinting with menace. "We don’t want men like you in this 'ere establishment. Swindlers and cheats, coming ‘ere and ruining good play with yer court airs and graces.”

"This was nothing but a misunderstanding. I'm sure that we can come to some sort of arrangement, sers, Surely-" Joffrey fought to say through battered lips and jaw. he gingerly worked his jaw, trying to work out if anything had been fractured. A couple of his teeth were loose.

"Settle up and get out and ne’er let us see thee darken our doors again! we want full payment of yer account-"

 

"Be reasonable, I haven't got that kind of ready cash on me. No, don't hit me again! You'll get your gold, I promise! I promise!"

"Leave the little shite be. Let 'im talk!"

 _This was happening at the very worst time. he had debts upon debts and until Margaery did her duty and wedded him, no way to unlock those assets which was infuriating. living at Court and hanging round with Jemmy was expensive, it was not easy to live at the lavish pace demanded by the Duke of Monmouth's entourage._  
"But I’m good for it, you know that I am?" Joffrey wheedled.

"I do, do I?"

Joffrey decided to lay everything on the table to save his skin. "I’m about to marry an heiress of great means, Lady Margaery Tyrell of Highgarden." 

Despite himself Drinkwater was interested, sensing a way to make profit for himself. "Oh aye?"

Her family are rolling in it, and I’m about to come into a title, a dukedom - my rightful one- as soon as I wed. All I have to do is talk to the king and arrange an advance. He’ll do it for my mother’s sake and his son, the Duke of Monmouth."

"How this one like to name-dop when he's in a spot of bother!" sneered one of the henchmen.

"Aye, yer sainted mother. The golden whore of Casterley Rock. Ain’t we all heard about her enough times?" Drinkwater sneered, sick of Joffrey dropping his mother's name with that of the King.

Joffrey gritted his teeth at the way this low churl insulted his mother. "My mother is the acknowledged mistress of the King. She has borne two children at least by him."

"Aye-"the man said with a scornful smirk, revealing browned and broken teeth. "-and she's hardly unique is she in that nest in iniquity? 'Is majesty ain't too particular where 'e slips his tarse."

"We'll take a down payment, and full settlement in two weeks. You'd better give thanks for me generosity."

"Three. Come on!" Jffrey tried to wheedle him.

Drinkwater glared at him. "Why should we do ye any favours?"

"Three, i can do three. come on! You want your money, don't you?"

Drinkwater considered his plea. "Seventeen days.no more, no less. In full, no down payments."

It was the best offer he was bound to get. Joffrey decided to cut his losses. "Thank you for being so reasonable." he forced himself to say, as if he had grit trapped between his teeth.  
"Just remember, I'm still charging interest, and don't forget, I know where you live." Drinkwater's smile was ruthless.  
\------  
Joffrey gave thanks that he'd got off lightly from Drinkwater's ken all things considered. He was a vicious brute of a man and his henchmen revelled in thier brutality. now I need to go to the treasury office and see Baelish about a loan. He would easily be able to repay it once he wed Margaery, and right it might just save his skin.

_She has to agree to the match now. There’s no way that I’ll pay them off if I don’t._

* * *

Privy Office

Petyr waited until Joffrey left their office before he leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. A sly smile spread across his foxy face.

Bab was dying to ask him what the hell was playing at, he could tell.

"You charged Baratheon one hell of a lot of interest, didn't ye? What are you trying to do, cripple the lad?" Bab asked. "Thirty per cent, month on month?"

"I was merely being cautious."

"But everyone knows he'll come into a decent fortune once he weds the Tyrell lass?" Bab enquired. "I hear Mace Tyrell is so relieved to snare a noble for her, even if he's a bastard, he's planning to pay a fortune in dowry once more. So why charge him such a ruinous rate? Unless you know something I don't about the state of Baratheon's finances?"

"You know Renly actually returned her original dowry when they separated like a romantic fool? Mace will pay it straight back out to her next husband." Bab mocked, amused at such unworldy behaviour.

"Tell me do you really think that Lady Margaery is going to go through with the match?" Petyr leeant back in his seat with quiet amusement.

Bab frowned, doubting Petyr's confidence. "Of course she will! She's pledged to him, and it would solve her ruined reputation. It's not every high-born lady who gets **two** opportunities to marry a Duke!"

Petyr merely gave his co-worker a knowing smirk, seeing all the pieces come together most satisfactorily.

"Lady Margaery is a smart girl, with quite the mind of her own. She is well aware of the type of man her father sold her to. I suspect Lord Baratheon is shall we say, a little over-confident?"

 _...and will make us a fortune if we play our cards right._ was left unsaid by both of them.

"You think she'll jilt him? Why, that would be social suicide!" Bab laughed.

Petyr's smile broadened. "No, social advancement. Lady Tyrell is a clever girl, ably tutored by her grandmother, no doubt. Why should a bright girl, already wed, marry another Baratheon when she could aim far higher?"

Bab gave him an odd look as if to ask: _how can a girl divorced and disgraced aim higher?_

"But how?" he gave his partner a wary look. "I know they say she dallies with the king, but I don't think she'll be able to parlay that into making herself his latest mistress. Barbara and Cersei have sewn up the market in 'maitresses en titre'. At most, a roll in the hay and a couple of jewels. Not enough to dump a title over?"

"She isn't aiming for the king." Petyr serenely counted the rest of the money and sealed an envelope pressing his mockingbird seal to it. "It's nothing but a clever diversion."

"Isn't aiming for the King? Not the Duke of York, surely?"

Petyr openly laughed at that. "He'd bore her within ten minutes and he's hardly the most subtle of suitors."

Bab leaned forward incredulously, unable to believe what his colleague was delicately hinting at. If not the king or his brother, then only one man had the rank to compare...

"Old Longshanks himself? Rupert?" Bab said in disbelief. "Surely not?"

"Rupert and the lady were seen in the park several times looking most intimate. Joffrey accosted them and looked most put out when she went straight back to the Prince and resumed her place on her lap."

Bab raised his eyebrows and said nothing.

"My theatre friends tell me that it has been discreetly made clear that Margaery is not to be harrassed by the attentions of visitors backstage. They dine together constantly, and his carriage drops her at the theatre and picks her up again. Tell me if that is not a sign of interest?"

"But he must be twice her age! What the devil is he thinking?"

"She's a pretty lass. There's a sparkle to her, a glow that's very attractive. Worth thinking about, isn't it?" Petyr remarked. "-and he's still got those steely good looks and glamour. People don't forget he was a hero, a great man and loyal to the king and his father."

"You seems very sure of this?"

"Charles loves him as a brother, and being a fierce Protestant, he's popular among the populace as well. As far as they're concerned Rupert is a man of honour, a man for England and a counter-balance to the Catholic follies of the Duke of York."

They both chuckled at the cleverness of Lady Tyrell aligning herself with such a distinguished prince in an attempt to stave off Joffrey's suit.

"If she plays her cards right, she could rise higher than ever and not have to give her hand to Joffrey at all!"

"Well, well! The rose of Highgarden and the Warrior Prince, eh?" Bab grinned in admiration of his cunning colleague. "I don't know how you do it, Petyr?"

Petyr allowed himself a small triumphant smirk. "I keep my ear to the ground, that's all."

* * *

Theatre Royal, Drury Lane

Margaery went to the practice room to go over her airs for the production. Ever since she started at the King’s company, John Dryden had been a great admirer of her talents and very encouraging as she made her way in the company. He constantly praised her sweet mellow voice, and even though he was a bit pompous at times and had a rather inflated opinion of his poetic talents in comparison to other writers, rating himself about Beaumont, Fletcher, Jonson, Marlowe and even Shakespeare she liked him as a person. 

Strangely enough, Johnny Wilmot couldn't stand the man and constantly needled him.

“What do you hope to achieve at the Theatre Royal?” Drynden asked her as she put away her music. "Do you want to be a star, Miss Flowers?"

"I want to sing and act. I want to be a regular member of the company. I have what it takes, I'm sure of it."

Dryden did not seem to be convinced by her earnest reply.

Or are you just marking time until you can make a suitable settlement with a man willing to pay your bills.”

Margaery blinked at him, insulted by the notion that she was not serious about her new profession and she was just marking time until a man came along.

"Is that what you think of me? That I'm nothing more than a dizzy dilettante, wasting everyone's time?"

He sighed, looking troubled. She sensed that he had made a hash of his concerns and approached the situation the wrong way. "Personally, I like you. You're hardworking, always superbly well prepared and you have an excellent instrument. Your acting and improvisation is improving all the time. As a member of the company I can't fault you. Killigrew was right to take a punt on you." 

She basked in the unexpected praise from the playwright.

"So why d you fear I'm not serious about my performing career?" Have I not proved my mettle enough?" She wondered if Beck and her sister Ann hadn't been stirring trouble. Beck had never accepted her in the company, seeing her as a threat to her livelihood.

“The fact of the matter is that I think you have a great deal of talent. If you wanted you could go far: to Florence or Naples with a voice like yours. You could be a huge star, if you don’t allow yourself to get distracted.”

“So that’s it? You think that I’m going to be distracted?” She said, still feeling offended.

Dryden sighed. "Miss Flowers, I fear very much that you already are."

"Oh!"

"Can I be frank with you, Maggie?"

"Aye." She said begrudgingly. 

"It's been noticed that the Prince comes to see you regularly..."

"He's an admirer of my work!" She protested, colouring slightly.

He just gave her a look as if to say: you aren't fooling anyone, dear.

"He drops in on rehearsal, he sends a carriage to pick you up and drop you at the theatre, it's been very quietly made clear that other men's attentions in the Green Room towards you are not welcome." Dryden counted off on his plump fingers. "Now why would that be?" 

Margaery hadn't known that, although she supposed that it would make sense. The female members of the company were expected to entertain the great lords and wealthy merchants who thronged backstage to fraternise with the actresses backstage, ogling and groping them as they dressed and undressed. Rupert wouldn't have liked that one bit.

"Quite a fearsome protector you've got there." he remarked.

"He's a friend. He cares for my welfare, that's all." She started to say.

"Ah, I see how it is. Very smart, you're holding him off, upping your price until he's so hot for you he'll pay any price to have you." Dryden gave her a knowing wink and a nudge. "Gods, you certainly know how to look after yourself, don't you Miss Flowers?"

Margaery was appalled by his suggestions. _How typical to impute to them such base and cynical motives for their budding romantic relationship._

The cynical court and public would never understand the sweet tender innocence of their kiss in the park where she'd confessed her feelings for Rupert. His gentle yet passionate kiss, the way he'd struggled with the knowledge that she desired him as much as he desired her, fretting whether it was honourable to pursue her because of the age gap between them.

_Very smart? Holding him off? Driving up her price? He'll pay any price to have you?_

She wanted desperately to protest to tell Dryden that it wasn't remotely like that at all. _It's not like that! I love him! He loves me!_

_He's a good man. I care for him as a man, not as the Prince. But you're all so cynical and worldly, you'd never understand..._

* * *

Cersei's apartments, King Street

_Remember she has to believe that you are her very best friend._ Cersei reminded herself as she entertained Frances Bard at her home. 

“Such a lovely house and so convenient for Court.” There was no disguising the envious tone in her gentle Irish lilt. 

Cersei wanted to accelerate matters and impart the explosive information she'd primed ready for the girl. "Come let's talk over dinner, woman to woman." 

\-----

"I think he’s probably lost his mind! Some sort of mid-life crisis.” Cersei was holding forth on her strident opinion of the Prince's new love. She was enjoying every moment of this. "She's gone out of her way to seduce him and of course he fell for it right away!"

“You know this woman?” Frances asked her, taking a sip of wine. "The one he's taken up with?"

Cersei gave her an insincere sigh of sympathy. “I’m afraid to say that I do.”

Frances was a captive audience, leaning forwards as she lapped up Cersei's tale.“What can you tell me about her?”

“I hate to be the one to distress you, Frances, but this needs to be said. Lady Tyrell is a-" She stopped, pausing for effect.

"She is a what? Lady Casterley, what are you trying to tell me?" Frances tripped over her words in her urgency. The girl gripped the stem of her wine-glass so hard, Cersei thought she'd break it.

_Time to dig the knife in....._

“Well, I hate to tell tales, but she is an adventuress.”

Frances's lips formed an O of surprise at Cersei's bluntness.

Cersei leant forward confidingly, aiming to create rapport and sympathy between them. “She divorced her husband Renly, who was an utter degenerate anyway. Those two were the scandal of court; the king was forced to banish him, you know." 

"Oh!" Frances exclaimed, mouth pursed in thought.

"She was given the chance to repair her fortunes by unfortunately marrying my eldest son.” Cersei elaborated. "'Tis a good match , and her family are rolling in wealth, buut I can't help but be uneasy."

Frances frowned, trying to get everything she'd heard straight in her head. “She’s meant to be marrying your son. So why is she chasing Rupert?”

She is a power hungry little madam, like all her kin. New money, you know. hardly nobility at all. I believe they made their money in trade.

“Joff tried to accept her despite her dubious reputation but the jilt takes pleasure in thwarting him. He’s been so tolerant of her scandals, but how long can he turn the other cheek? It saddens me that she takes my Joff for granted.”

"I see. How could he have been so taken in?"

"She's not even that pretty compared to you", she flattered Frances, "-her colouring is quite commonplace, but she has a knack of attracting men to her side. She's that sort of female: a good-time girl with the morals of an alley-cat."

"You don't seem to think much of her, Lady Casterley?" the girl remarked.

"Why should I? She is naught but a bold insolent wretch with no respect for anyone. You know she’s leaving court to tread the boards now? Like some common slattern?"

"Why? Why would anyone do that?"

Cersei shrugged. "She's an attention seeker, the worst kind. She goes round with those disgraceful wastrels: Rochester, Sedley, Buckhurst and that malignant dwarf Tyrion. If it wasn't the stage, I'm sure she'd be gracing the couches of Madam Cresswell's instead."

"Tyrion Lannister, I've heard of him! Isn't he related to you, my lady? He's a Lannister, is not? He writes hysterically funny comedies for the Duke's company. My friend and I went to see his 'Comedy of the Dragons' a few months ago-" 

Cersei was not amused at the reminder. She looked down her nose icily, her tone frigid and forbidding. "He was disowned."

Frances ducked her head in apology. "I'm sorry. I-I shouldn't have brought it up."

Cersei carried on with her tirade against the Tyrell girl. "She’ll take him for a ride and make a mockery of him. She's greedy as all her kin, and rest assured, once she has all his love, what will he have left for your Dudley?"

That got to her, breaking through her placid complacency like a brick through glass. "What do you mean 'what will he have left for your Dudley?' Rupert is his father! He loves his boy. Whatever disagreements we've had, that never changed-"  

She gave the girl a cynical smirk, which was not calculated to make her feel better at all. 

"Do you really think things are going to stay that way, once she gets her claws into him? My dear girl, she wants him all to herself! I feel that I have to help you understand the danger you're in. Once they decide to be together, what need will they have of you? Francesca, you're going to have to look out for yourself and your boy. No one else will!"


	10. A few surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loras frets about his sister's new relationship with the Prince so he decides to meet him in secret at the Admiralty Office. However Prince Rupert is not quite what either Renly or Loras expected, 
> 
> Meanwhile Cersei keeps digging for information about Rupert and Frances, finding her a useful source if a little trying...
> 
> Mary Villiers Stuart has opinions on Margaery and Rupert's relationship and she is not afraid to air them.
> 
> Frances and Cersei meet Margaery and Rupert at a tennis match. Conflict ensues...

Renly’s apartments, night time

“You’re tossing and turning. Something is bothering you, what is it?” Renly asked Loras as they got ready for bed. He lounged on the bed, stretching out to his full length like a lazy feline, all long limbs and easy strength and grace.

Loras was about to deny it as he turned into the comforting warmth of Renly's body, pillowing his head on his chest, but his lover knew him too well. Ever since his sister Margaery had visited them, and had unexpectedly announced her feelings for the Prince, Loras had been most unsettled.

“How can you be so calm about it, Renly?” he eventually burst out.

A puzzled crease appeared between Renly’s dark brows. “Calm about what?”

“Margaery and Prince Rupert! I mean what the hell is going on there?” Loras sat up in bed and crossed his arms over his chest, his mouth set in a determined pout as he fretted about the situation.

“She seems to be very much in love.” remarked Renly, and if the phrase gave him a small twinge of regret, he took care to keep it hidden.

“Does this not bother you?” Loras asked with undisguised incredulity. “She’s involved with another man, a man much older than herself. I can’t imagine that Father would be that pleased with the situation.”

“No, why should it?”

“This is my baby sister we’re talking about. How do we know that his intentions towards her are honourable?” Loras was getting worked up. “I don’t think my father would like it. She hinted that there was going to be trouble. What has she gotten herself involved with now? First father cuts off her allowance, so she goes on the stage-“

“I thought it was quite resourceful of her actually.”

Loras just frowned at him. “-and now she’s falling in love with a man who’s highly unsuitable and going to cause conflict within the family. I’m surprised that Grand-mere is allowing this to go on.”

“Why’s he unsuitable? It’s hardly as if she’d fallen head over heels for a footman?” remarked Renly, trying to lighten the mood as he could see that Loras was getting worked up over it.

“But she’d already betrothed to Joffrey, father’s already set the match up.” protested Loras with a pout and a furrowed brow. "If she accepts the match, she would regain her title once more."

Renly reached a hand out to rumple his curls. He sighed, wrapping his arm round his lover to comfort and pressing warm soft kisses to his neck. "Frankly it worries me that everyone’s pushing her into a marriage with that little shite. You know that she didn’t want him, but it’s meant to be a grand match once Cersei purloins my bloody title and hands it to that brat. He doesn’t even have the decency to treat her properly.”

"So you really do approve of this affair? You think she should jilt Joffrey, just like that?" Loras asked.

“Did you not hear what she said? She fears that he’s going to hurt her after they wed. He doesn’t even have the sense to woo her and treat her like a lady. It’s Joffrey who doesn’t deserve her.”

"I know not....her reputation...Father and the family fret so about her prospects! Her future was so bright, and she's scandalously treading the boards, at the beck of mercy of well, I don't like to think too hard about it. Why Father is giving her such a hard time and forcing her to seek a living for herself, I don't know. I wish I could help her!"

"Margaery is a smart lass, she will manage and turn this to a triumph, I am sure of it!" Renly reassured him. "Have some faith in the lass!" 

"I don't know how you can be so serene about this?" Loras pointed out. "What is he, in his thirties, forties? Quite an age gap, to be sure!"

“Don’t you it would be rather hypocritical of me of all people to object to her new relationship, all things considered?” suggested Renly with a raise of his dark brows. "After all that has happened?"

Loras had the grace to blush a little. “I just worry about her.”

Renly drew Loras in for an affectionate cuddle. “I know that, but putting your foot down isn’t going to help her. You heard her when she was here. She wants this man, she needs our support”

“So what can we do?” Loras looked up at him trustingly.

Renly gave a troubled sigh, unable to see a way past the unalterable fact that as he was still banished and meant to be persona non grata, he was not able to circulate freely and talk to Rupert himself, man to man as he would like.

“Some of your old Army friends might help.”

Loras broke into a smile as he considered Renly’s suggestion. “You know it just might work. Robb Stark might know something and-“ he racked his brains for a moment hitting on the solution. “- bloody Theon Greyjoy, that’s the man I need! He was angling for a position in the Admiralty Office. Mad about ships, he is; no wonder, bearing in mind his ancestry. I’ll get in contact with him!”

* * *

Later that evening

Loras ducked into the regimental tavern after dark, hoping that Robb Stark was going to turn up. He had sent a message, but he wasn’t sure if he’d read it and understood the importance of discretion. Much as he hated to have to rely on his friends, this was for Margaery. He needed to gain entrance to the Admiralty Office, and Theon Greyjoy was going to be his best chance of doing that.

He tried to catch Robb’s eye from his alcove as his friend came in and went to the bar ordering a drink for himself and presumably Theon who would probably arrive later.

Loras raised his hand to attract his attention.

Robb blinked, obviously surprised to see his friend.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he hissed as soon as he sat down, clasping Loras's hand warmly. “I heard that you went absent without leave from the regiment. Is that true?”

“It’s a long story-“ Loras started to say, looking round to make sure that no one was eavesdropping into their conversation and realised his identity. There were too many people who knew he was great friends with Renly Baratheon and would ask questions about why he had only just now resurfaced back into society.

“You just threw in your commission? Are you out of your mind? You were one of the best soldiers in the regiment. Abermarle absolutely idolised you.” Robb leant forward urgently as he spoke.

"I did not have a choice, Robb. Not about this, when -"

Robb fell quiet, very aware of Loras's situation,

“I need to speak to Theon at the Admiralty Office.” Loras asked. “Can you arrange it?”

“Why, are you planning to get a job there as well?” Robb asked with interest, perking up at the thought.

“No!”

Robb had the nerve to grin into his tankard. “Just as well, I distinctly remember you saying that you got seasick sailing across the Channel. Don’t think you’d be much good at it, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

“Thanks!” Loras said dryly, looking down his nose in a fair approximation of Grand-Mere Olenna had he had known. “No, this is important. I need to speak to Prince Rupert in private.”

“Prince Rupert?” Now Robb really was surprised. “Why?”

“It’s in connection with Margaery, that’s all I can say.” 

He didn’t know to what extent her relationship was common knowledge at Court, but decided to veer on the side of caution, not wanting to make things difficult for her while she and the Prince sorted through their feelings for one another. He sensed that this was important to her, so despite his personal misgivings he would do everything he could to help his sister.

“Your sister?” Robb looked puzzled. “I thought she was engaged to that little shite Joffrey. Rotten luck, that-“

“What do you mean rotten luck?” That was the second time in the last few days that someone had mentioned this, expressed reservations about the betrothal to Joffrey. He knew that Margaery has said that she could handle it, but he should start to make some enquiries...

Robb winced. “He’s got a terrible reputation.”

Loras gave him a quizzical look, willing Robb to elaborate. Now was not the time to remain close-mouthed. “So Joffrey-“

“Hangs out with a bad crowd. You know the type: Jemmy 'Spoilt Brat' Monmouth, Carr Scrope, John Mulgrave.”

He sighed. _What was his father thinking of? The Duke of Monmouth? Crass John Mulgrave?_

He supposed that if Joffrey was gaining Renly’s title by ill-gotten means and his mother was providing him with a suitable holding that he would seem an eligible parti, but this did not explain Margaery’s reluctance to bind herself to him, nor the Prince’s assistance in refusing Joffrey’s suit. He needed to speak to him. As soon as possible!

“You see why it’s vitally important that I get in to see him, Robb?” Loras pleaded. “You can’t blame me for fretting?”

“I’ll ask him and see what he says. They’re all working hard at the office because of the war negotiations. The Prince is convinced the fleet isn’t ready for action and as for funding…”

Loras just looked pleadingly at his friend.

“Here he is!” Robb spotted his friend in his navy blue uniform, shaggy long dark hair tied back in a rough tail. He still didn’t bother with a periwig.

“Did you get me my drink?” Theon took up the pint of frothing dark ale in front of him and drank deep. “Ah, that damn hits the spot, I was gasping for that. We’ve been working like dogs at the Office. Old Longshanks and the Duke of York have been working us like dogs. Up betimes at five in the morning ‘til now.”

“Theon, we have a visitor.” Robb reminded him. 

Theon did an almost comical double-take as he finally noticed Loras. “Where the arse have you been?” he exclaimed, brow wrinkling in surprise.

Loras hushed him, paranoid about the heads that idly turned towards the sound. To be recognised now was the last thing he needed, not when he was still meant to be in hiding and at least aiming for discretion. “Keep your voice down, Theon! Christ’s bones, what’s wrong with ye?”

“I asked the same question.” Robb shrugged.

“I thought you were in hiding.” Theon said, with a suspicious look at his friend.

“I was, but I’ve some business to sort out, and you’re just the man to help me.”

“Anything I can do to help, you know that, Loras. You know you’re a mate, and Renly too, though we’d best not speak too loud about him at the moment, eh?”

“I don’t suppose there’s any chance the king might have relented since he banished Renly?” Loras asked, hoping against hope that their disgrace might at least be over, they could return to court, and get back to the life that they had been living before this scandal broke.

Robb and Theon looked at each other awkwardly. “I’m afraid not, unfortunately.” Robb said sympathetically.

Loras cursed under his breath. _Well, that was going to make things more difficult!_ Once more he deplored the vindictive individual who had seen fit to inform on him and Renly, painting their relationship in the worst of colours. _What harm were they doing by wanting to be together?_

“How the hell did he find out anyway? We were discreet as could be.”

“Not discreet enough, evidently.”

“Theon!”

“What? I was just saying!” Theon protested. “Look, I’ll see what I can do about the Prince. I dunno whether he will be able to aid you, but-“

Loras was perfectly aware that his mate was putting himself out for him and he appreciated it greatly. “Thanks.”

\----

The next afternoon, Loras got a discreet message from a page boy dressed in Admiralty blue. He just saw the back of him as Mathis hurried to deliver the note.

“This just came from Greyjoy at the Admiralty Office. He said I needed to deliver it to you and you alone right away.”

He cracked the seal impatiently and saw the short message.

_I understand you wish to meet privately. Make your way here at 2000 hours and we shall speak then_

_Yours_

_Rupert_

* * *

Naval Headquarters, Greenwich

Renly and Loras made their way to the Admiralty Office under cover of evening. It was imperative that no one stopped or recognised them as Renly was still under sentence of banishment. 

“Side entrance is there.” Loras pointed out as they approached the Naval Headquarters.

Renly eyed the impressive building warily, watching the gold braided blue coats of the men filter out of the office. The day must be nearly over and everyone either going home to dine or frequenting taverns, the theatre or their mistresses

“What happen if someone challenges us?” Renly asked, with a hint of anxiousness. Loras realised belatedly that Renly was just as worried about meeting the Prince, he was just better at putting on a front and hiding it. _I need to be a support to him._ he said, in an attempt to pull himself together.

“They won’t. We have an appointment with the Prince, but I suppose it would help us to be discreet.”

“He’s close to his cousin, they say. Do you think he’ll give us up to him?” Loras couldn’t help but be worried at the risk they were taking, but it had to be done for Margaery’s sake. “The last thing we need is for the king to take offence.”

Charles was a famously genial monarch and mostly a friendly tolerant soul, but he seemed to find the notion of a potential relationship between them an offence before God and Man. He knew that Renly had tried to shield him from the worst of it, but he'd heard the whispers, noticed the side-long looks, the questions that other men dared not ask aloud but speculated over behind closed doors. It had not been a hard choice to throw in his commission and stay with his lover, but the social consequences had been a short sharp shock.

“He could have easily done that already. And yet he has not, so far.” Renly mused.

“So why didn’t he?” Loras asked. It was a very good question.

“I think he’s prepared to talk and listen to whatever we have to say, unlike his Majesty,” Renly reasoned, “I get the feeling that he wants to meet us as much as we want to meet him.”

* * *

Admiralty Office, Evening

Theon was at his desk, nearly hidden under several piles of paper and heavy leather bound tomes, pretty much over burdened with work. He seemed to be hard at work still, swearing under his breath as he tried to decipher the writing on one unwieldy bundle of paper, squinting at the squiggles and marks of some clerk’s penmanship.

"God's bones, what is this damned chicken-scratch!" they distinctly heard Theon mutter in exasperation.

“Greyjoy!” Loras hissed to get his attention. 

Theon jerked alert with a jolt. Frankly looked as if he were ready about to nod off. It appeared that Theon had not been joking when he said that they were being worked hard at the Admiralty Office.

"You're here! I'll let the Prince know you arrived for your appointment with him."

Loras was surprised to see Theon so officious, but he supposed with such a demanding boss as the Prince, he couldn't get away with slacking.

"You have got to be kidding me!" he got up from his desk and clapped Renly on the shoulder with a broad smile. "Not that I'm not pleased to see you, but you're meant to be in hiding! What are you doing here?"

Renly accepted his friend's greeting. "We both need to see the prince."

Theon's eyebrows flew up in surprise. "No wonder you both needed discretion! Well, you'll get plenty of that, he's working late and that means so am I. Good Luck, you'll need it."

Loras did not like the sound of this. "What d'ye mean by 'Good Luck?'"

Theon's mouth quirked into an ironic smile. "He does not suffer fools gladly, no matter their rank and status, and he puts the fear of God into grown men, but he's a decent man underneath all that bluster, Just tell him the truth and you'll be fine."

* * *

Rupert's Office

"Enter!" A sharp abrupt voice rang out. 

Rupert sat behind a desk piled with tomes, forehead cradled in hand. He scratched his cheekbone looking tired and wan as if he hadn't left his desk since early morning. Renly and Loras both noticed his periwig was off since he was alone and working, and there was a wicked red shiny scar on the side of his head.

Loras's hand brushed Renly's as they entered the office to confront the Prince unsure of what to expect from the grand man who gained such a formidable reputation, not only at court but in bloody battle.

"Lord Tyrell, good of you to join me discreetly. And your friend?"

Even though he knew that he was being foolish, Renly couldn't help feeling a bit of fear. This was a huge risk they had just taken and if he had miscalculated... he removed his mask and looked at the Prince, daring him silently to say something.

If Rupert was shocked by the appearance of Renly in his office he gave away no sign of it to the banished man. The two men looked each other in the eye, man to man, an unspoken conversation between them.

_So this is the man she fell for..._

"Lord Baratheon, I must confess to some surprise at your presence?" the older man remarked mildly.

Renly could feel Loras bristle next to him and unthinkingly touched the inside of his wrist to calm him down. Loras could be rather proud and spiky, taking offence easily at imagined slights and that was the last thing they needed, not when they needed the Prince's goodwill.

"We have a situation in common, I believe ser, one that will not wait." he made himself say, rather bold in his address to the Prince.

"I see...How can I help you with your concerns?"

"It's about Lady Tyrell, my lord-" Loras interjected, impatient to tackle the Prince.

"Aye, go on."

Loras went on the attack, eager to get his opinion across and fearing nothing. "She told me...she told us both that she harboured feelings for you. Is that true?"

"And if it is?"

"Are those feelings returned?" Loras demanded, his eyes bright. "She is my sister and if she's entangled in some sordid little fling--"

Renly saw the tension in the Prince's jaw and pressed his lover's hand in warning. "Loras, come, there's no need for this-" he said, trying hard to keep the fragile peace between the three of them.

"I have to know!"

"Lord Tyrell has his concerns which is perfectly understandable." Rupert managed to answer with admirable self-control. "I hope that he will allow me to reassure him of my intentions towards her."

"And what are your intentions towards her? Let us speak frankly, my lord, and stop dancing a minuet around the issue!"

"You want me to speak plainly, Lord Tyrell? I would marry her tomorrow if I had my way."

Renly was surprised at the heartfeltness of the older man's confession. "So you love her too?"

"We all know that what you propose is impossible!"

If Rupert was offended by Loras's bluntness, he showed no sign of it. "It is difficult, I confess, but not impossible."

Loras was not inclined to agree. He snorted, not even attempting to hide his scorn. "You're a Prince descended from the Holy Roman Emperor himself. The blood of Old Valyria flows in your veins! You cannot marry a mere countess. We all know this!"

"Loras, please! Allow the Prince to say his piece!"

"I am loth to discuss such delicate and personal private business without my lady being here to answer for herself, but the fact of the matter is that I am negotiating with my brother who is my liege-lord."

"What?"

"I don't think 'tis fair to get her hopes up when things are so unstable, but aye, if my brother the Elector agrees to grant me the principality which is mine by rights, then I would be able to make a suitable counter-offer for your sister. My hand instead of Joffrey Baratheon's, for what it is."

Renly was surprised that the prince was being so reasonable about the situation despite Loras's provocation, that his jaw dropped open. _Is he saying what he thinks he is saying? That he is negotiating with the Elector, that he wants to marry her?_

"You realise that our father has arranged a new match for her. " Loras challenged, quite discomfited by Rupert's confession. "One that would repair her reputation?"

"And put her in danger?" he riposted right back.

"I knew there was something going on!" Loras carried on, noticing Rupert's raised brow.

"Did you know that she fears this Joffrey?" questioned Rupert. "That she **asked** me to help her?"

"She told us that she had it all under control, that there was no need for us to fret and get involved. I offered to call him out, but-" Renly started to protest.

"Then perhaps she did the right thing?" Rupert talked over him with noticeable impatience. "You seem to forget, Lord Baratheon and Lord Tyrell, that you are still under banishment and so far the king has not waived it. You take a great risk still being in the capital." His voice softened slightly. "I know why you have done it, but if you will forgive me for saying this, it was rather reckless?"

Loras rankled under the rebuke, but he said nothing.

Rupert pressed on. "My investigations into the matter have uncovered some most disturbing information, I have to tell you frankly."

_Disturbing information?_ Renly and Loras mouthed to each other. 

"What mean you by 'disturbing' my Lord?"

"Let's call things what they are, sers, Joffrey is a brute," the bluntness in Rupert's voice surprised the both of them.

"Margaery has a very real fear of what he is capable of, especially since she is to be given to him in marriage, and I firmly believe that she has grounds for her fears. She was completely in the right to bring this to my attention, and furthermore as a gentleman, it is nothing less than my duty to help her."

"And your feelings for her?" Loras pressed.

"That is an entirely different matter."

"You understand our situation, Your Grace, I'm sure." Renly hastened to add. "We mean no offence, it is just she is very dear to both of us."

"I know that it comes from a place of love for your sister, I understand that completely." Rupert seemed to be making renewed efforts to keep Loras on-side, although how successful he was likely to be was still in question.

He turned to Renly, "As for the subject of your banishment I took the liberty of sounding out my cousin with a view to him becoming more lenient with time. Unfortunately, he is proving quite stubborn in the matter."

"So he will not?-"

Rupert shook his head. "At this moment in time, I am afraid not."

"But what hope do we have, then?"

Rupert sighed, looking for a solution to the problem as it stood. "Let me and some associates of mine speak to Charles when he is likely to be a little more reasonable about this. Let us prepare the way for you to return back to the king's favour. If he could be induced to find a need for your particular talents..."

Renly's mouth gaped, the Prince's hint igniting something in his mind. He was not completely helpless. It had been a while since he had helped with a case, but he did now have a little leverage. Much as he did not like the thought, 'The Spyder' might be the the surest, if not the only way back into the king's good graces. Now if only he could get an appointment with the eunuch...

"Thank you, your Grace, you have been more than helpful-" Renly ignored Loras's nudge to his side as he heartily thanked the Prince. _This was a chance. A chance to get back in with the king. He was not going to waste it!_

"How come that his Majesty disapproves of the thought of our relationship so thoroughly and yet you do not?"

The Prince gave a rather sardonic burst of laughter, the line of his mouth cynical and wearily worldly-wise. "I love my cousin, but he has his foibles and prejudices, same as many men, and sometimes...I fear it makes him a little short-sighted. I have fought in regiments since since I was a boy too young to have fluff on my face. Spent four years sailing in his fleet, barely touching port for months on end. I daresay I have seen a few things in my time. Who am I to judge harshly?"

* * *

Margaery and Rupert were in his Spring Gardens apartment after a long and heavy day for both of them. She’d been up early rehearsing a tricky piece at the theatre and then Hart had insisted she attend a late luncheon with some wealthy merchants who he was hoping would sponsor some of their season.

It had taken most of her charm and tact to deflect some of their more prurient interest, the sly attempts to paddle their groping fingers in her decolletage, the leering pats on her bottom as she passed. One vintner was so persistent she had been forced to glare him down, treating him to one of her finest most haughty put-downs. Hart was forced to smooth things over and explain that 'Miss Flowers' was already spoken for by a very important man.

“I haven’t thanked you for having a word at work- about the patrons.” Margaery mentioned as they sat over supper. She couldn’t help notice how tired he looked. There was dark shadows under his eyes and the lines in his face seemed more deeply carved.

 _He’s working too hard,_ she thought to herself with a touch of tenderness, wanting to smooth the frown from his face. _He needs someone to care for him, otherwise he drives himself too hard in Charles’s service._

“It was my pleasure, Maggie.” He sounded brusque and weary but he looked down at her and flashed her a smile of such sweet tenderness it made her melt into a puddle. “I didn’t want you to be bothered by them. I know what men can be like backstage, they seem to think that because they’ve purchased a ticket to watch the show they’re entitled to take liberties with the ladies. It’s unacceptable.” 

“Some of them behave like animals!” she agreed.

He frowned once more. “Has anyone?”

She shook her head. “No, I think I have been quite lucky so far. They know not to try it, especially now.”

“Good.” He looked her straight in the eye. “I’m afraid I don’t share very well.”

She liked that intensity, that possessiveness in his gaze.“Well, thank you. I appreciate it a great deal, ser.” She managed to say, demurely.

He gave a her slow rare-won smile, his eyes soft and loving.

“You have a dimple in your cheek- just when you smile.” She said fondly.

He coloured slightly, which filled her with amused affection. Even though he outwardly seemed confident, brash with a plain-spoken blunt streak that demanded a wary respect, he was very different with her, treating her with a kindness and sensitivity which in no way diminished the dominance of his personality. She felt as if she saw a side to him that he very rarely revealed to people, only the ones he was close to and trusted.

“Do you not like it, ser?” she looked up at him underneath her lashes, liking to tease and amuse him. “I think it suits you, it makes you look very handsome. Fascinating…” her gaze smouldered, as she made no move to hide how much she desired him.

His mouth set in a wry line. “I’ve always had it said it was ‘womanly’.”

Rupert did not look that impressed. By the way he sighed, she got the feeling that his dimple had probably been a bit of a bane to him, which was a shame as it really was attractive. 

“You should not let them bam you about it. They just sound jealous, if you ask me.”

“You would not say that if you had an entire regiment taking the piss, frankly. Brandon Stark and Rob Baratheon never let me live it down.”

“I like this, don’t you?” he said, putting down his goblet, “Just us, at the dinner table swapping tales about our day. It’s a sanctuary, cosy-“ he grimaced a little. “That doesn’t make it sound exciting, does it? You know sometimes I can't help but wonder when you are going to tire of spending time with a worn-out old sea-dog.”

“I’m perfectly happy here, with you. You know that.” she chided him with affection.

“All day long I spend harrying officers and suppliers, battling corruption and rank incompetence in the Admiralty. ‘Tis good to come home to peace, quiet witty intelligent conversation from a smart and beautiful woman. Someone I can relax with.”

He took her hand from across the table and raised it to his mouth, kissing it gently. Margaery stroked his face overwhelmed by tenderness for this proud brave man, who cared for her so deeply. "If only you knew how happy you make me, Maggie, and how little I deserve you." 

"If it's anything like how happy you make me, ser, then I think that I do." 

* * *

**Cersei's Town House, King Street**

_How on earth was that goose able to attract a man like Rupert? He would have been bored within a month!_ thought Cersei. She pasted a smile on her face, teeth near enough aching with insincerity. _Remember Frances Bard has to believe that you are her very best friend._

Frances looked at Cersei’s apartment with undisguised awe, mouth agape like some yokel fresh from the country, Cersei thought to herself with some scorn.“You and your children live here?” she breathed.

Cersei couldn’t help letting out one smug smirk. “Charles is very generous. I really cannot complain.”

“Such a lovely house and so convenient for Court.” Frances could not hide her awe at Cersei's quarters.

"Come, let's have no more formality. Let's settle down and talk!"

“I hate to be the one to distress you but this needs to be said. I think he’s probably lost his mind. Some sort of mid-life crisis.” Cersei remarked as they settle down to some wine. She was intent on trawling for information, the more salacious the better about Prince Rupert, and Frances was going to be her extremely exclusive source. "Of course 'tis terrible for you..."

"I had no idea that he would move on so swiftly. As if I meant nothing to him." She sniffed into her goblet of wine, her lower lip pouting out. "It's not fair!"

“How old were you when you first got to know the Prince?” asked Cersei, digging for information. She sensed that Frances was dying to talk after all that isolation, it would be a relief getting her grievances off her chest at last to a sympathetic ear. _I can do that! I can listen to her drivel for long enough to get what I need._

“I was sixteen or seventeen or thereabouts. a bit older maybe-" Frances furrowed her brow thinking far back.

"That's terrible. He took advantage of you at a vulnerable time in your life, promising you the earth and then-" Cersei said, trying to lead Frances and steer her into the right narrative of the innocent girl and the worldly older man taking advantage of her naivety.

“It wasn’t like that!” Frances protested, before Cersei got carried away. “Look, after the war we’d lost everything. Not a brass farthing to rub together, the estate was near enough gone. I had brothers and sisters, and if I didn’t do something we would have starved to death.”

 _Thank God we Lannisters never had this problem,_ thought Cersei with more than a hint of smugness. _We were smart enough to hedge our bets by splitting out interests in the war. Father turned his coat and deserted the Old King at the right time, withdrawing his much-needed finances and support from the Westerlands at the most crucial time, while I made sure I kept a foot in the Royalist camp by my marriage to Robert Baratheon and seducing Charles into making me his mistress. The House of Lannister looks after itself!_ "That must have been so dreadful for you!" she said.

“Rupert was a friend of my father, and he had a reputation for helping old comrades and soldiers in dire financial circumstances. He is one of the few at court who still gives a damn about the men who fought for the old King's cause. I knew he would not let my family suffer." Frances's eyes shone. "He was a hero, he saved us. My entire family."

 _So how come you're not with this paragon now, then?_ Cersei could help but think mean-spiritedly.

"He knew you were infinitely grateful to him and he manipulated you into-"

Frances had the cheek to look a bit amused. "Lady Casterley, that's not really how it happened, y'know. 'Tis sweet of you to care so much but in all honesty-" the girl broke off into a giggle. "Well, I sort of chased him quite a bit."

"You seduced him?" Cersei could scarcely credit it. 

"You still care for him, don’t you? Yet he abandoned you-"

The girl nodded ruefully, "Aye, for all how sorely he’s used me, I do."

"I blame that blasted Richmond woman." Frances declared making inroads into the Dornish red with a will. Cersei was half impressed, half appalled by the amount the girl was able to drink. _Gods, she is a complete lush, isn't she?_ "She simply would not prise her claws out of him even now. She disliked me."

Cersei found herself relating all too well to the thought. _The bitterness she’d had to swallow when she found out about his doomed passion for Lady Richmond and how easily he had rejected her advances still stung after all these years. But Frances did not need to know that, did she?_

"She convinced him to leave me, I’m sure of it."

"How would she have managed to do that?" asked Cersei with pasted on sincerity, letting Frances's tongue rattle on indiscreetly.

"Always telling him that I was taking advantage of him. She had her chance and she declined it! Why won't she just leave him be?" there was a realm of bitterness in her tone as she got stuck into the wine, starting to slur her words. “I loved him, or at least I thought that I loved him. I was absolutely infatuated with him."

 _You still are infatuated with him,_ more's the pity Cersei thought. _What use are you to me, if you're still mooning over him?_

"We took vows, you understand, don’t you?"

 _Wait, what?_ Cersei couldn't believe what Frances had just said in her tipsy brooding. Such a juicy scandal dropped into her lap. _Gods, it was worth listening to all that sentimental drivel for a pearl of royal gossip like that! I knew it!_

He broke his promise to you. You were secretly wed?" Cersei wanted to get her facts straight.

"Well, not exactly..."

 _I swear this girl is the most infuriating-_ "What do you mean: Not exactly. Did ye take vows, or not?"

"Aye, we were going to make it official some day after Dudley was born, but he changed his mind." Frances slurred, thoroughly maudlin now, "I know things were not easy and sometimes he was hard to live with, but I never thought he would give up on me and our lovely boy. I always hoped that he would do things officially-" 

"How terrible!" Cersei, completely insincerely, "-if he really wanted to he could have married you and damn Carl-Louis but I hate to say that he strung you along. My dear girl, you desperately need my help, a woman of the world. If you don't well, there's no telling how people will take advantage. Trust me to help you. You do trust me, don't you?"

"Of course I do, you've been a good friend to me, Lady Casterley. I appreciate it, really I do."

 _A secret marriage!_ Cersei couldn’t help gloating inwardly at the potential scandal. _And to add insult upon insult, he broke his vows and turned to Margaery Tyrell, well this was getting better and better!_ She was going to have a field day with this gem of information. _For starters. a public confrontation - at court no less!- would do nicely._

_Rupert won't know what hit him!_

* * *

**The Tennis Courts, Whitehall**

It was a fine day for the tennis tournament, bright and sunny, with little more than a gentle breeze to disturb the players. All the men of the court had entered the tournament today, keen to show off their physical prowess and skill in front of the ladies, who gathered watching them admiringly, showing their support for the players by wearing brightly coloured ribbons round the tops of their arms and cheering during their matches.

The betting was fierce and secretive and an absolute fortune was changing hands behind the scenes. Any excuse for betting for this gambling obsessed court was eagerly taken.

"Who've you got money on?" Jane Middleton asked, sipping some iced sweetened orange barley water gifted to her by one of her admirers, eager to curry favour. She idly flapped her fan, sighing out heavily.

"Well, of course I put money on the King and Prince Rupert, as close to a sure bet as any." Betty urged.

"What odds did you get?"

"Five-to-two, but 'tis sure money back!" Jane assured them with a smirk from behind her fan.

"I've no doubt that they're going to be in the final." Bridget butted in, eager to show off her knowledge and worldliness. "Rupert is meant to be one of the best players in the country, isn't he?"

"Not surprised, with his reach he must be nearly unbeatable."

"Magnificent players both of them." Jane said, ogling the King in his shirt-sleeves with keen feminine appreciation.

"Well, now **that's** interesting-" Lady Betty said in a speculative voice. The ladies turned idly to follow her gaze.

Margaery Tyrell turned to greet Sansa who was looking very pretty and fresh in a light striped pink and white Egyptian cotton gown, on the arm of Willas Tyrell. She was paying him avid attention as he spoke to her privately her face flushed, pretty, and radiant, her blue eyes shining like stars.

"Very interesting indeed, considering the king's clear affection for the Stark maiden. Perhaps she is attempting to pique his desire by making him jealous?" whispered Bridget to Betty. "-using Tyrell as her patsy, well, she's smarter than she looked and no mistake!"

"Gosh, Willas Tyrell is rather dreamy isn't he? Such a shame about his knee… I hear he's practically an invalid now, and spends most of his time a recluse in the country." Lucy mused.

Bridget had to agree, eyeing Willas with renewed interest. “All the Tyrells are a handsome bunch, aren't they? If Garlan wasn't so sickeningly in love with his Leonette I'd make a play for him but he's not remotely interested in other women. Damn shame-"

"The younger brother Loras, what an exquisitely gorgeous boy! I could have died for him, but he didn't seem interested in any of us, and then he disappeared from the country round the time that Renly was banished.” Lucy cooed admiringly.

"What?" Betty looked up from her programme, her interest piqued by Lucy’s innocent statement.

“I vow it was the same month he left his regiment without a word requesting indefinite leave. That’s what my other brother Cephas told me in his last letter-”

The ladies looked at each other, speculation about Loras budding and taking root in their fertile minds.

"Truly? Are ye sure of that?"

Arabella couldn’t resist an opportunity to spread some gossip and discord. “I think I read a wood-cut claiming they were seen in Genoa or Venice together at the opera, or was it kissing passionately in a gondola by moonlight?” she furrowed her brow trying to remember the details.

Jane and Lucy swopped a glance before Lucy butted in, eager to deflect attention from her gaffe. "Look at the armbands the girls are sporting!" 

“Ooh!” Lady Betty said with a sly grin, the vexed question of why Loras Tyrell would go missing at roughly the same time as the disgraced Renly Baratheon vanished clean out of her mind for now.

Instead of wearing the bright gold and black of the Baratheon colours or the green and gold Tyrell colors, Margaery's armband was plain dark green which was the colour of Prince Rupert's party.

"Von Wittelsbach Green! If that's not a statement of intent, then I don't know what is!" Bridget said with avid glee. "- and look at the Lady Sansa's!"

Sansa was wearing the King's colours of red and gold ribbon instead of the expected white and silver colours of the Stark Family.

"Significant or not, do you think?" Bridget hinted, keen to stir some controversy of her own. "Noble colours for Royal mistresses?"

\-----

Sansa, Jane Middleton, Arya and Margaery had got the job on attending the prince and the king when they played, supplying them with refreshments and supporting them. Arya and Rupert got on like a house on fire and the assembled court had laughed when she'd addressed the prince as 'M'lord Giant'.

He smiled at her, genuinely fond of the plucky young lass. "Less of your cheek, little 'un! Are ye here to support me?"

"Of course I am!" She declared with a smile and a neatly bobbed curtsey. "I have my little flag right here and my armband." She pointed to her dark green ribbon, speaking as frankly as ever. "I hope you win, ser; I've ten shillings on you and Sansa will never let me live it down if you don't!"

"I count myself well instructed then!"

“Lady Margaery insisted on supporting you too.” She told him. “Normally her and Sansa do everything together, but when she found out you were in the final with the King, she insisted.” 

She could tell by the glint in his eyes that he was well pleased by her news. "Is that so, Lady Stark?" he murmured, his gaze already searching for Margaery.

Arya had noticed the Prince's fondness for her friend and how it seemed to be reciprocated. She ducked out of the spotlight, drawing attention away from herself. "Your Grace-" she murmured.

“I hear you will be attending me today, my lady?” he murmured, bending over Margaery's hand attentively. His lips lingered over her hand, pressing against her knuckles for one stolen tender fleet moment. His dark eyes flicked up to hers, the corner of that stern mouth turning upward as he focused on her. 

There is something of the rogue in him, I see it now, thought Margaery, warmed by his regard. _Confidence, princely arrogance and charm. How irresistible must have been in his prime? Handsome dashing and brave. No wonder women fell for him in droves._

"Rupert? My Lord, My lord, I must speak with you!" a shrill female voice cut through their reverie. Margaery could see the tension seep right back into his shoulders at the sound of the voice.

"Margaery, I am so damned sorry about this!" he murmured to her, pressing her hand. “Francesca?” 

The blonde's chin went up boldly, silently urged on by Cersei, who enjoying the confrontation for all she was worth. “May I speak to you, ser? Alone?”

Rupert did not look as if he welcomed public confrontation with her in the slightest. The tightness in his jaw and the severe line of his mouth told it's own tale. He did not even trouble to hide the exasperated roll of his eyes as he turned towards the newcomer. "If we must, Francesca."

"I am so terribly sorry, dearest Margaery. I would rather not do this now, but it seems I have little choice."

It was an awkward situation, but Margaery was not one to shrink from a challenge. She had the feeling Rupert could do with the support.

Rupert turned to face the newcomer. "Frances, what's wrong? Is everything well with my boy?" 

She scoffed. “Dudley? As if you care about him!”

He was starting to rankle under her scorn and patience with her was rapidly running out. _Why the devil was she trying to pick a fight between them now?_

“He’s my son; of course I care about him!” he insisted, thoroughly irritated with her and her scenes.“When have I ever given you cause to doubt it? You want for nothing, either of you.”

"This isn’t about money!" she said, eager to berate him and shooting envious glances at Margaery.

The corner of his mouth pulled down cynically. “Is it not? You surprise me!” he scoffed, the dark cynical streak in his nature coming out. 

"How am I meant to feel when you flaunt-"

“Come, Franny, I don’t want to fight with you.” He told her, trying to placate her. "If you wish to spend time with friends, 'tis no business of mine any more. I just think Lady Casterley is not-"

"Cersei has been a great friend to me!" Francesca protested, her voice growing ever more shrill. "If it wasn't for her taking me under her wing, I would be even more isolated. But that would suit you perfectly, would it not ser?"

"Frances!"

“And who’s she anyway?” she gave Margaery an accusing glance over her shoulder, nose turned up. “Is she your latest bit of fluff?"

Rupert's dark brows drew together crossly. "So people are tattling about that now, are they?" The taut line of his mouth told it's own tale.

“You left me for her! Some two-bit actress with her eye on the main chance?" her lip trembled appealingly. "Is this why you have become so cold to me and your son?" 

He was not remotely moved by her wiles, being used to them. "I suggest you retract your words. Mistress Bard." 

“Rupert, can ye not see she’s out to make a fool of you?” she clung to his arm and was rudely brushed off for her pains. His face was swiftly turning thunderous. The last thing he wanted was for Frances to cause a scene at court. She should not even be there!

She stepped away, realising that she had overstepped her mark and remembering his caustic tongue and hot temper.

When he looked down at her, his voice was cold and haughty which was even worse. She could have dealt with temper, but when he was so cold, sharp and businesslike; there was no moving the man. “This jealousy does not become you, Francesca. Kindly curb it at once.”

Charles took in the tense body language of the scene. Rupert's barely banked down irritation and the gloating look in Cersei's eyes and decided to intervene. "Ah coz, there you are? I was wondering where you'd got to! We have a match to get on with!" his dark gaze narrowed on Frances, who was not a regular at Court. "I do not believe we have had the pleasure, my lady. Most remiss of me to neglect a guest?"

Frances sunk into a curtsey, utterly tongue-tied.

"That is because she was not invited." gritted out Rupert in annoyance.

Charles took in the situation as Cersei protested shrilly, "Frances is **my** guest!". She scowled at having the wind taken out of her sails.

"Enough! Rupert, Lady Margaery the match is about to start, so I suggest we make our way to the tennis court. Cersei, could we please have a pleasant afternoon with no drama and conflict, for the love of God? I have Barbara taking airs and needling Queen Catherine and now this!"

He swept away, Rupert and Margaery following in his slipstream.

"His Majesty was rather displeased. Perhaps this was not-" Frances started to say.

Cersei was not about to let a small set-back like this shipwreck her campaign. "I'll deal with his Majesty later. As for this afternoon, 'tis not over yet, is it? Be ruled by me, Frances." 

Cersei stood scowling in front of Margaery as the King and the Prince played. She glowered at the younger woman, eyes narrowed like a challenge, her sharp golden beauty gleaming in the summer sunlight like a blade. It was difficult to concentrate with her rival glaring at her from across the court.

The older woman waited until in between sets to berate her. Margaery tried to remain calm and not allow Cersei to see how she was getting to her. “Are you going to go and see my son -- your fiance, in case it had escaped you?”

Margaery was not impressed at the rebuke. Her tight smile was barely polite, more akin to a baring of pretty white teeth, “Oh, is Joffrey incapable of coming over for himself?”

“The question is, would he be welcome after the spectacle you and the Prince made of yourselves in the Park the other day?” Cersei retorted. "I see he is still paying attention to you, I am sure you must love that! Joffrey would not I'm sure want to feel 'unwelcome!'"

Margaery was swiftly losing patience with Cersei. _This was not the appropriate time to be bringing this up, could she not see that?_ “If he’s going to make a scene and mortify everyone, then no, I am not.”

Frances could not resist butting in, emboldened by the presence of her new friend and rattled by the appearance of her new pretty rival. She eyed Margaery's elegant gown as if she would cheerfully rip it off her back, given half the chance.

Margaery watched her carefully. _So this was his former mistress, was it? I must watch her with care for she still holds a grudge._ “Miss Bard, you really should not leap to conclusions and believe everything your ‘friends’ tell you.”

By the sour twist to Frances's features, she did not much like that. "I've heard a lot about you, Lady Tyrell, not all to the good."

Margaery was not about to back down. "Likewise, Miss Bard." She remarked in a deceptively bland voice, having given Frances something to think about.

The blonde stormed off with a sour face, discomfited that Margaery was more than up to the challenge, and not about to be intimidated by her and Cersei.

“Who was that?” said Arya curiously after the other woman had walked away with her nose in the air.

Frances was eyeing her distrustfully from a distance before being dragged away by her elbow by Cersei. Her pretty face was set in a sullen mask as the other conferred urgently with her, both shooting looks at Margaery and her party. 

"Who the hell was she?" Arya asked, as blunt and plain-spoken as ever.

“Frances Bard, Rupert’s ex-mistress. She does not think much of me.” Margaery said with a another side-long glance at the pair of them, working out exactly what those two would want and how it would impact her and her budding relationship with the Prince. Cersei Lannister Baratheon meant her no good, that was assured and now she had linked up with Frances Bard, who know what horrors they were spreading about her?

“Why is she hanging around with Lady Casterley?” Sansa asked, whispering behind her fan. "They're not going to cause you trouble, are they, Margaery?"

“That’s what I would give a great deal to know at the moment.”

* * *

Spring Gardens, in the garden

Having observed the goings on at the tennis match and how that ridiculous girl Frances made a spectacle of herself in front of the Prince, earning his disapproval for her pains; Mary Villiers Stuart decided that now was the time to enquire about this new relationship with Rupert. _How serious was he about this Tyrell maid, anyway? How seriously should I be taking her?_

"Are you so serious about this girl?" Mary Villiers Stuart found herself asking Rupert as they sat in the garden taking the dogs for some fresh air and exercise. In truth she was not sure if she wanted to know the answer. His answer would likely make this new relationship all too real.

"She's smart and clever and so brave. She doesn't deserve this, Mary. I just want to help her."

She saw how this was. Rupert could never resist a woman in distress. It was something ingrained deep down in him that impelled him to help. She just hoped that this young lady would not take advantage of it, he was already dealing with the aftermath of his relationship with Francesca as it was.

"I worry about you, you know?" she said gently, with an affectionate nudge. "Even though I know 'tis daft, I cans't not help it."

His face softened with affection for her. "I know you do, Butterfly, but really, you shouldn't."

She wished he would open up but he so very rarely did. _He's not yours any more, he never was,_ she told herself with a stab of pain. “Frances won’t be pleased. You know I suspect she harbours hopes of getting you back.” Privately, she could not help hoping that it never happened.

“Yes, I have already had the dubious pleasure of hearing her objections. I don’t know what has gotten into her but she was being most unreasonable. There was no call for her to say what she did about the lady Margaery. In public, as well.”

Mary frowned at the brusqueness of his tone. That sounded like a breach if she had ever heard one. "You care for her and her son, what more does she want?"

"Someone is influencing her." That sardonic remark made her look at him again.

"Well, why she is objecting now? She seemed perfectly happy with the arrangements you both made for her boy."

 _And very generous they were, considering the fact she was entertaining alternative offers for her hand while you were preparing that aborted trip to far off Guinea._ she thought, but forbore to say.

"Perhaps she wants more money? Perhaps she has been listening to gossip?" she said eventually, trying to reassure him.

"Gossip? From who?"

Sometimes she felt that it was rather a disadvantage to Rupert in this court that he absolutely refused to listen or indulge in gossip. _For sheer self-preservation, he ought to at least keep an ear to the ground!_ "I think it very strange that she is such friends with Cersei Lannister." she mentioned, trying to be subtle.

Rupert did not like the sound of that at all by the wrinkle of his brow. _What would that scheming bint want with Frances?_ was plainly written across his features.

"Cersei holds you a grudge, you know she does, and she never did forgive you for your dalliance all those years ago. Such a blow to her pride!"

Rupert scowled, disliking the mere mention of Lady Casterley. "That woman is a menace, if Charles refuses to see it. She is wicked-" 

_He really does not like her in the slightest now, does he?_ mused Mary to herself. _I wonder what's behind it? I know that once upon a time during the war Cersei chased him shamelessly and she's a gorgeous woman with that golden blond hair, those green eyes and those fabulous curves that drove most of the male courtiers mad with desire, even Rupert was quite attracted to her at one point, according to the rumours... I wonder what made him change his mind so fervently?_

"You that it was only you for the longest time, Mall? But time moves on, and we learn to live and love again." Rupert said quietly, pressing her hand. "I'm glad we could still be friends, after all that has happened to us."

"It was unfair of me to expect you would stay alone and longing for me while I could not be yours..." her voice trailed away wistfully.

"Mary-" There was a world of regret and warning in his deep voice. "We cannot live in the past-"

She sighed, leaning against him, wishing and yearning despite herself that fate had treated them differently. That they were not Prince and Duchess, but man and woman, free to be with one another- just Rupert and Mary...

_If everything had been different. If I hadn't been married to Jamie Stuart, Lord Richmond all those years ago when she met that dashing brave cavalry officer all those years ago. If we had been different, braver. more selfish...if he hadn't been fighting that futile war for the old king. If we had taken the chance...if we had won!_

"I know, I know...What good does it do to dredge up the past? We move on and we make the best of our lives. for it is all we can do."

"You're happy, are you not? With young Tom Howard?" he asked. "He treats you well?"

She sighed, thinking of her handsome young husband. The man she'd chosen after two marriages for status and rank, finally. Of course she loved Tom! But Rupert was always the one who'd got away. "Aye, he is good to me, he is."

"Do I not deserve a little happiness as well, with someone who cares for me?" he urged.

When put like that, so quiet and reasonable, how could she object? "Just be careful, Rupe, won't ye?" She said with a sad brave little smile, getting up at last from the bench and giving Smudge one last stroke. "I wish I could be a better person and be happy for you, for you truly deserve it, but right now 'tis hard, d'ye see? I'll let myself out." 

He raised his head to look at her. "Mall, be good to her, will ye? She-" his voice softened. "She makes me very happy. Happier than I have been for a long while, and I would do anything to keep her safe." 

Mary nodded as she left the garden, for what else could she say in the face of that?

* * *

**Spring Gardens, Whitehall, early evening.**

Rupert sat at his desk, wrestling with a letter that his pride rankled against, but it would have to be done, and soon. He would have to swallow his pride and open up a dialogue with the brother he resented and disliked, lay himself open once more to Carl-Louis’s petty and vindictive influence. 

_I have no choice. If I want to do the right thing for Margaery, if we want to be together, I have to- I must swallow my pride. She’s worth it, she’s worth everything. To keep her safe, to love her as she deserves..._

He swallowed down a lifetime of bitter recrimination and grievance against his brother, giving up his dreams of the fabled land of Madagascar to fight in his war to regain Carl-Louis's patrimony, the homeland that his father had lost in his bid for the Bohemian throne.

Fighting like a lion at Vlotho, only to find out that Carl-Louis had fled the battlefield in his carriage and left him to his fate. The refusal to negotiate with the Emperor- three years of his young life wasted in Linz imprisoned, declining every single offer of freedom and a rich principality of his own out of loyalty to a brother who did not care enough to negotiate!

And even as he had fought for his uncle, even losing the man who he cared about and loved above all others, loyal faithful Maurice, Carl-Louis was making his command impossible by accepting money from those Puritan ranting bastards in Parliament, scheming and negotiating to gain his uncle’s throne unlawfully.

No wonder the likes of Wilmot and Digby had never trusted him, no matter how hard he had driven himself to prove his loyalty with Carl-Louis undermining him at every turn! 

That man is my bane, and I despise him, but he is also my liege-lord and without his goodwill, I would not be able to offer Margaery all that she deserves. My hand in marriage and a principality of our own. 

_For her sake...._

He put pen to paper and started to write.

_**Dearest brother…** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some differences of opinion about how deeply Prince Rupert was involved with Mary Villiers Stuart. In any case, the relationship was rather doomed by the fact that firstly Mary was already married to James Stuart, Lord Richmond and even more importantly he was close friends with the couple.


	11. A Disastrous Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rupert and Renly talk things out privately before Rupert meets Margaery's parents. Things do not go to plan, unfortunately

Spring Gardens, early morning

Renly had discreetly made his way to the Prince's house and been ushered in by his professional and efficient staff. He found the Prince at his desk, already dealing with piles of paperwork and correspondence and partaking in a simple morning repast.

"Ah, Lord Baratheon," he acknowledged Renly as soon as the major-domo ushered him in, "I have been expecting you. Please sit down and join me. I hope you will excuse me, but there is much to do this morning. Feel free to help yourself." he gestured towards the freshly baked bread, ale, bacon and cheese on a side table.

"You wanted to speak to me in person?" Renly asked, unable to hide his curiosity. _What did the Prince want to discuss with him, away from Loras and anyone else?_

"Yes, I did. I am sure you understand my interest in the matter as you can see."

To bare his secrets before that powerful shrewd gaze was one of the hardest things that Renly had ever had to do and yet he steeled himself to do it, knowing that he could not stand in the way of Margaery's future happiness. _She sounds like she genuinely loves this man, how can I stand in her way?_

"I cared for her very deeply. She is a lovely girl, too good for me, in truth." he admitted. Though it was uncomfortable and difficult to talk about the failure of their marriage to this man, he felt as if he owed him some measure of truthfulness.

"I sense a 'but'-" Rupert prompted.

 _It was now or never._ "I could not stay with her. I could not ask such a thing of her. Whatever my faults she deserves better. A man willing to love her and her alone."

"And you could not?"

All Renly could do was bow his head over his meal.

Rupert gave a small sharp nod to himself, as if confirming something he was already convinced of, he finished chewing carefully. "Because of her brother Loras?"

When Renly looked up in consternation, the older man's dark gaze, full of thoughtful sympathy and compassion took him aback. He hadn't expected that from the other man, understanding and a measure of acceptance, not in a hundred years.

"How did you-"

"Reading between the lines of what she has told me, and what you have said today, that is the most likely conclusion."

"May I ask you a question? You can refuse to answer if you wish." Rupert looked at him candidly. "Did you cheat on her?"

"I tried to give him up, I honestly did, I wanted it to work with Margaery, but I couldn't... we couldn't." Renly looked at the older man, pleading with him to understand the dilemma and why he had taken the path he had, "She adores her brother, they're so close and I couldn't allow the situation to carry on and drive a wedge between them. That would have been unforgivable."

Rupert sighed at the tangled mess he was describing, "At the very least you tried to do the honourable thing, in a strange way. 'Tis a shame about the consequences but the alternative does not even bear thinking about."

"The consequences?"

"This diabolical match with Joffrey Baratheon."

"I don't like it much either. That boy is a menace, and the thought that he might lay a hand on her chills me. It cannot happen." Renly found himself confiding in the Prince. Considering the situation they both found themselves in, he never actually expected to like the man his ex-wife had fallen for, but he found that he did. For all his fierce reputation, he is a surprisingly reasonable man.

His determination was mirrored on Rupert's face, "It shall not, not on my watch. I shall continue the investigation and Mademoiselle de Lenclos and Pippa Foley are aiding my enquiries. I expect her in London imminently. If we are to convince Charles to put a stop to this arrant nonsense, then we will need proof of our allegations, possibly physical proof."

"Thank you for helping Maggie, I truly mean that, your Grace."

"May I give you a word of advice to pass on to Loras, in a purely professional capacity? I get the feeling he does not quite approve of my involvement with his sister, I fear," Rupert suggested, now that they had found some common ground, "If I told you in confidence that his absence from his regiment had been noted, could you pass that message to him?"

"He left his commission because of my disgrace," Renly admitted, "-as soon as I was sent into exile, Loras followed without question."

"Hmm, 'tis tricky, I have no doubt. His actions were a bit rash in that respect. But we shall probably be at war with the Netherlands soon enough, and in those extreme circumstances things may well be brushed aside that would not be in peace-time. Talk to him, if he wishes to save what Abermarle tells me was a promising military career, and tell him to at least contact the Earl and ask for his commission back. There is no harm in asking."

"And as for myself, your Grace? You mentioned there might be a way-"

"Ah yes, that is already underway. I have laid the matter before the Spyder and he will be in contact with you imminently. My suggestion is that you follow his lead and work for him in this matter, he has a frightening amount of influence in these matters. As for the case..." Rupert stopped as if considering what to say which intrigued Renly, "-just be careful of the findings, you may find yourself poking a hornet's nest. Your task will not be easy, but Varys will help and I am a busy man, but I will make myself available at a pinch."

"You know about the case I will be assigned to?"

_Just as he thought- classified material!_

"And may I ask you a hard question, man to man?" Renly asked, "You said at the Admiralty that night that you intended to wed Margaery."

"Aye, I did, but I want to be frank with you, 'twill be no easy task. I may have settled here with my cousin, but my elder brother Carl-Louis is my liege lord. At the very least I shall have to negotiate with him to gain my principality and let's just say my relationship with him is not the best. But 'tis the best way to keep her safe."

* * *

Margaery was curious to know how the meetings with Loras and Renly went, so when she next saw the Prince after a hard days's rehearsal at the theatre, she asked him outright as they were at dinner."Rupert, did you speak to Renly and Loras like you sad you were going to? What did they say?"

" Aye, I saw them after hours at the Admiralty, we were very careful that they were not observed. Your brother was a little confrontational, but I hope I was able to reassure them as to my intentions." Rupert petted Smudge's ears, sending the young dog into raptures at her master's attention.

She knew how proud and spiky her dear brother could be at his worst. Margaery sincerely hoped that Loras had not gone out of his way to offend the Prince. That was the last thing that she needed!

The Prince gave her a rueful shrug, "I think he was just trying to make sure that I was not planning to take advantage of you. 'Tis understandable."

She was going to have to speak to Loras about this. She couldn't help but wonder why Renly was far more accepting of her new relationship than Loras who she was so close to.

"And Renly?"

He was thoughtful for a moment. "I believe we were able to come to some sort of understanding with one another. He explained a few things that I was not quite sure of. You are both still fond of each other, you and Renly? Despite everything?"

"Aye, Rupert, he's my friend, and that's why I could not," she looked up at him, eyes bright, "you understand, don't you?"

"I don't want to be your secret, Margaery. If we're going to do this then we have to be upfront and honest. It is the only way. Everything above board."

She dreaded the thought of it, even as she agreed it was the most sensible and honest way to go about things. She knew it was going to come to this. Rupert’s integrity was so deep-ingrained that he would not be comfortable keeping a secret like this for a long time, especially from her family. Far easier to be honest and open about their relationship.

"But my father, you know what he is like.” She looked up at him anxiously, just imagining her father’s reaction to her revelation that she was romantically involved with the Prince.

“Aye, to my cost I do.”

She sighed, sitting on his lap and snuggling closer to him. He wrapped his arm round her, sharing her despondency for a moment. “It’s a shame that you and he do not get on.”

“How are we going to convince him that we are both serious about each other? I won’t lose you. I can’t lose you now, ser.”

He gave her a kiss, his fine hands passing over her curls, enjoying the way she settled so sweetly into his arms. This sweet maid and her happiness had become so important to him so swiftly. However was he going to leave her if war broke out with the Dutch? "We'll find a way."

* * *

The Tyrell town house, two days later

Margaery decided to enlist the help of her female relatives to smooth the way in this most delicate of family negotiations. She waited until they were spending a day in the solar before broaching her idea.

"Prince Rupert wants to come to dinner? Here?" Alerie said in alarm, dropping a stitch.

“Just a simple informal occasion, he doesn’t expect any ceremony at all. He just wants to meet the rest of the family.” Margaery assured them. _Please, please let them go for the idea!_

"Your friendship with the man is going from strength to strength, isn’t it dear?" Grand-mere Olenna remarked, her brows raised, “Now he wants to meet the family?”

Margaery blushed over her stitches, not quite meeting Grand-mere Olenna’s astute gaze,"He's been very good to me.” She murmured demurely.

Grand-mere sniffed, “Obviously he wasn’t scared off by Lady Richmond and her visit! Those Villiers always had a fair amount of cheek, in my opinion. Airs and Graces like you wouldn't believe and all because her father used to give auld James the eye as a wee laddie, and allow him to paddle his nasty fingers down his shirt and pinch his arse when ever he pleased!”

"Grand-mere!"

"It's not as if what I said isn't word and book true!" she said with an unrepentant glint in her eye.

"Are you sure that this is a good idea, Maggie dear?" Alerie swopped a worried glance at Grand-mere Olenna over her daughter's head.

“It’s really important to me, Mother. Please?” Margaery urged.

Alerie couldn’t resist her daughter’s pleading, appealing face. “Very well, we’d better tell the cook we’re expecting an illustrious visitor, hadn’t we?”

Margaery got up and spontaneously hugged her mother. “Thank you so much!”

* * *

Mace was a great deal less impressed once the idea was put to him. "Are you out of your minds?" was his first reaction.

This was the last thing that he wanted! He still hadn’t forgotten the Prince's haughty tone as he accosted him in the Green Lyon, his blunt assertion that he didn't have his Margaery's best interest at heart. Montagu's sly insinuations still circulated in his mind. 

_She slopes off with him, they seem to be close. What business is it of his what I plan for my girl?_

"No I don't think it's a good idea. Tell him we are not at home to him." He harrumphed.

Grand Mere Olenna did not look that impressed. "Mace, did you ever think that it's going to be very difficult to refuse him?”

“Why?” Mace’s chin jutted out stubbornly.

She didn’t even bother to hide the roll of her eyes. “He’s royalty. How are we going to refuse him if he wants to grace our house with his presence?”

"I don't give a damn who's he's bloody related to!” groused Mace, feeling most discomfited by his ladies proposing to welcome that man into his home. “The man's rude, arrogant and an uncivilised blood-drenched brute! What does he want with the girl anyway?”

“Well, Mace darling they do seem to have become great friends, and by all accounts he's been very kind to her. The least we can do is welcome him for a night into our home?” Alerie remarked.

He resented the way his wife put it like so simple and reasonable. He knew full well that if he objected further, he was the one who was going to look intolerant.

“He gets my back up, I don't like him!” grumbled Mace.

“You don’t have to like the man, just invite him to he house and be civil to him. Surely you can do that?” Grand-mere Olenna retorted, sounding quite snippy.

* * *

“Well, we spoke to your father, Maggie.” Alerie mentioned as they told her of their decision.

Margaery looked up so hopefully.

“I suggest we invite him round for a small select family dinner party so we can all get to know him a bit better.”

“And what about Father?” Margaery asked with some trepidation.

There was so getting away from the fact that Mace was determined to be negative about entertaining the Prince.

“I hope once he meets Rupert in a more congenial social setting, he might mellow a little. One can but hope, dear.” Nerves were running high at the Tyrell residence as they prepared to have one of the most illustrious guests they'd had for a long time gracing their table. Their cook was on his mettle, and had been trying out his most impressive dishes for a week to get them perfect for the chosen night. Alerie had invited Eve to play and sing duets with Margaery as after dinner entertainment and provide a little friendly support.

Margaery was a bundle of nerves, fidgeting and fretting over the menu and entertainment, flitting round frantically, tasting dishes and checking silverware and linen.

“Girl, will you sit down! You're flapping and getting in everyone's way. Whatever is the matter, Margaery?" Olenna said waspishly.

“I'm sorry I just can't help it. I just want for everything to go well.”

Alerie pitied the girl. _This is so important to her. She really does want us to like him._

“Have you done the seating plan yet?” Margaery asked with a preoccupied frown. “I must get on to work about hiring a string quartet for after dinner to accompany Eve and I-“

Alerie looked faintly alarmed. “Seating plan? I wasn’t planning to be so formal, darling.”

“Oh, in that case is it all right if I sit next to the Prince?” she cut in with a perfectly innocent face which didn’t fool her mother in the slightest.

Alerie gave her a rather old-fashioned look. “My dear girl, do you really think that’s wise?”

“Mother, we do want to put our guest at ease, don't we?”

The girl did have a point, even if her move was likely to inflame her father’s dislike of her guest.

“Very well, move the place setting if that’s what you want. I just hope that Mace doesn't get a bee in his bonnet.”

* * *

The Prince arrived very punctually with Lord Craven in tow.

“You don't mind, it's just he is a very old and trusted friends and he expressed an interest in meeting your delightful family after making friends with Margaery. I was given to understand I could bring a guest?”

Alerie rather suspected Lord Craven was there to diffuse any bad feeling and calm his temper, but the old man was so kind and genial she couldn't really complain, and at least he knew Olenna so he could keep her occupied. Rupert was certainly making an effort to be as charming as possible, gallantly handing out presents and engaging in conversation.

“I'm so glad that you made it, and you are both most welcome to our home. Was the house easy to find, my lord?”

“Yes, it was. A very beautiful house, I would be interested to see your garden at some point.”

Alerie dimpled with pleasure at the praise from the prince. She worked hard on the garden of her town house and even though it didn’t remotely compare to the beauty of the estate in the Reach, it made her a little bit happy to have a corner of greenery and sunshine where they were.

 

Margaery's face lit up as she saw the prince she made straight for his side, and discreetly squeezed his hand.

“I'm so glad you could make it, my lord,” she smiled.

He looked at her with obvious appreciation, bending over her hand and lingering appreciatively. Margaery dimpled and blushed, looking adorably young and happy in his presence. “You look marvellous tonight.”

“This is Willas, our eldest.” Rupert shook his hand as Margaery hovered anxiously by his side.

“My other son Garlan and his wife Leonette of course I have no doubt that you know them from the palace.”

“I am very pleased to meet you both in a less formal setting.” 

* * *

 

Dinner was a rather awkward occasion, as the family’s efforts to welcome the prince were subverted by Mace’s ill-humour and negativity. Nothing anyone said was enough to disperse the thundercloud over his head.

“I had no idea that they were so close.” observed Garlan to his wife as he watched his sister interact with their guest. She stayed by his side, smiling at Rupert and talking to him with a sweet intimacy.

Leonette took a peek and noticed that they were holding hands under the table.

“What, darling?”

Leonette was trying to be as subtle as possible, she lowered her voice, inclining her head towards the couple. “Under the table, look!”

Margaery’s hand was gripping the Prince’s knee and his hand was stroking the back of her hand as if to comfort and soothe her.

"Does Father know how close they seem to be?"

* * *

After dinner, Rupert and Mace withdrew to talk privately. Rupert wanted to broach the subject of a potential relationship with Margery to him and improve his rather strained relationship with the Tyrell Lord. It swiftly became obvious that Mace had no intention of letting his grudge go.

“As if I would let you anywhere near my Margaery!” retorted Mace, not caring if he sounded rude.

Rupert gritted his teeth, he had anticipated that this meeting would not be easy, particularly as Lord Tyrell seemed to have taken a powerful dislike to him, but he hadn’t quite anticipated him being so combative. _What is he going to be like, once I tell him that his daughter and I have feelings for one another?_

“I assure you that my intentions towards the girl are purely honourable.” Rupert said stiffly, offence clearly apparent in his voice.

“She’s engaged anyway. My daughter is off the market.”

Despite the fact Rupert was making a herculean effort to not let the other man get to him, his intolerance and smugness rankled. _He wasn’t even willing to listen. Did he care not a whit for what his daughter actually wanted?_

“She doesn’t want him!”

Mace sneered at the thought. “The girl has no idea of what she wants!”

“She fears him! Does that mean anything to you?”

Mace scoffed, unwilling to consider Rupert’s plea. “She’s got herself into hysterics. Once she realises the benefits of this match she’ll stop making a fuss and settle down with Lord Baratheon.”

Rupert tried to make an appeal to the other man's better nature. “Whatever you think of me, your daughter doesn’t want Joffrey Baratheon. Will you not at least reconsider?”

“No,“ Mace didn’t even try to mask his bluntness. “-and I still fail to see what business it is of yours?”

“She is a friend and a lady in need. The least I can do is listen to her and support her.”

“Your feelings for her are not remotely platonic, though, are they?”

“Yes, I admit that I have feelings for her, that I care for her.” Rupert said with dignity that was fraying rather thin.

Mace’s eyes bulged with outrage, cheeks flushed hotly. Any minute now Rupert expected steam to burst out of his ears like an over-heated pudding. “You’re old enough to be her father and you’re chasing after my girl. It’s indecent, you lusting after Maggie.”

“Lord Tyrell, I’m afraid you have misunderstood-“ Rupert started to say.

Mace talked right over him. “If you think that I would allow you to make my girl nothing but a whore, you are very much mistaken! Have you slept together already, is that it?”

“Lord Tyrell, really I must protest-“ Craven interjected, trying hard to keep the peace before Rupert, who had shown far more forbearance in the circumstances than he had ever expected, lost his temper and blew the whole thing.

Mace took no notice of Lord Craven’s efforts to keep the peace. He was too busy ranting to be reasonable at this point. “Don’t tell me, she’s with child, and you’re asking for our blessing before she bears another Stuart bastard!”

“How can you say that about your own daughter?” Rupert was appalled at Mace's prejudices against him and his suit.

“Now Lord Tyrell, I fear that things have got out of hand here. Maybe we should all part now, and let cooler heads-“

Mace didn’t even let Lord Craven finish his conciliatory sentence, butting in with undisguised aggression. “You’re nothing but a pervert. You ought to be ashamed of yourself!”

By the dark look on Rupert’s face, Craven knew that Lord Tyrell had gone too far. If he did not stop his tirade, there was no telling how badly the Prince might react next. The situation was getting more volatile by the second.

 _He must care for this wee lass a lot more than I ever realised for the man I know like a son would never have tolerated one tenth of the things Mace had said in his bitterness._ His rapt face as he heard her perform with Lady Eve told it's own tale. What objection apart from age could Tyrell have to Rupert anyway? He obviously adores the lassie!

“There’s nothing indecent. I have barely touched her.” Rupert retorted through tight clenched teeth, insulted by the way Mace was talking to him. He knew that the lord of Highgarden disliked him; he had known it since their unfortunate meeting at the Greene Lyon, but to allow him to call him a pervert was more than any man could bear with equanimity. 

“And if I have my way, that’s the way it’ll stay.” Mace snarled.

"Come, my lord, we're going. You don't have to listen to this!" Craven said. He knew the signs all too well that Rupert had reached the end of his patience. The curl of his lip, the narrowing of his hooded dark eyes, the tension in his jaw. Any second now, Rupert was going to absolutely verbally eviscerate this man, he’d seen it before.

"Very well, I believe there is little more that can be said. As for Margaery, it is her choice to associate with me. She asked me for my help. Perhaps you should give some serious consideration as to why she would do that?"

* * *

Margaery and her mother eavesdropped at the door, appalled by the way Mace was talking to the Prince. they exchanged appalled glances, shaking their heads as Mace's voice rose.

“What on earth is he doing?” 

Margaery sat on the stairs, utterly appalled as her dreams of her new lover being accepted by her family crashed and burned. “How could he?” was all she could say in the face of this disaster.

"Your father has been threatening an outburst like this since dinner, child." Grand-mere Olenna sniffed.

“This is an utter disaster! How could things have gone so badly?” Margaery shook her head.

“Very easily.” Even Grand-mere looked unimpressed. “Your father never was very wise about choosing enemies. He’s pretty much blown every effort we made to get the Prince on side.”

“He really does dislike the Prince, doesn’t he?” Alerie said thoughtfully. “Why?”

“He spoke to Father about Joffrey.”

“I see.”

“He did because he knew I was worried about it,” Margaery leaned her head against her hand, feeling like her head was about to burst with frustration, “Because he cares about me, that’s all.”

There was no mistaking that Rupert was angry with the outcome of his interview with Mace. Alerie felt the need to try and make the situation better. _Why her husband had taken against the man so strongly, she had no idea._ She could see that Margaery was smitten with the man, it had been perfectly obviously when they had sat together at dinner. The girl’s face had glowed with happiness, in a way that it hadn’t since before she had been married to Renly. _Surely he wanted their Maggie to be happy?_

 _She’s in love with him._ she thought, struck with the powerful sudden realisation.

*

He strode through their hallway, his face set and dark with unspoken anger. By the tension in his jaw and his powerful frame it was plain to see how much of an effort it was to keep that hard-won composure.

Alerie fretted as they watched their guest storm out, thoroughly offended by her husband's intemperate outburst. Well, this was not how she had envisaged the night going! What had got into her husband? Why had he insulted the prince so?

All he had tried to do was try and tell Mace the truth of his relationship with Margaery. It was perfectly obvious that things had progressed further than she had ever thought and he wanted to be honest and open about his feelings for her.

“My lord, I am so sorry.” Alerie took pains to say, still trying to rescue the situation.

 

Craven scurried to keep up with the Prince’s long stride. He laid a hand on Rupert’s arm trying to calm and console him, and was shaken off for his pains. The older man took one look at the stubborn set of his jawline, the determined line of his mouth and he knew that arguments would be futile.

“Come on lad,” he said with a gentleness of old friends. “Let’s go home.”

 

“Where are you going, Mother?” Margaery asked.

“We have to try and make this right. Are you coming?” her mother replied briskly.

“Talk to him for me, please. I don’t know if I can’t face him quite yet.” Margaery’s lip trembled, just a little. You would have had to have been watching very carefully to spot it, but Alerie was very observant about her little girl. “I feel absolutely mortified by my damned father.”

* * *

“My Lord?” Alerie accosted the Prince as he was leaving the Tyrell house.

He towered over her, his face utterly unmoved and forbidding but Alerie didn’t back down. For her darling daughter she would brave anything. She’d seen the radiant smile on her girl’s face, how she’d seemed to lean on him and gain strength and confidence from his presence. How attentive and kind he was towards her. 

 

If only Mace could see that Margaery's feeling towards were genuine and heartfelt.

“Your Grace?”

“Lady Alerie.” He gritted out, ignoring Lord Craven’s pull on his sleeve. “You will, I hope, forgive me for leaving so abruptly?”

“I am so sorry about the end of your visit to our home. I sincerely hope you will not hold it against us.”

The prince was silent, taking a deep breath to calm himself.

“You spoke to my husband?”

“Yes.” He bit out, sounding positively hostile.

There was an awkward pause as even Alerie with all her talents at keeping the peace struggled to find a bright side to this social disaster. 

She could see it now: Rupert informing the king of Mace's folly, the king taking offence on behalf of his cousin- Good Heavens they were close, were they not?- being given the cut direct by the Royal family, Garlan and Leonette losing their positions with the King and Queen Catherine.

“You understand in the circumstances, that I cannot stay.”

The prince was furious: there was no getting past it, this was going to take all her powers of diplomacy and charm to heal matters, but she had to do it for Maggie’s sake.

“My lord was a little rash. He got carried away. In the morning, cooler heads will prevail-“

“I care for your daughter very deeply. I adore her-“ She was struck by the raw intensity in his voice,“But I cannot endure the things he has said to me. No man in the realm could.”

“Mace didn’t mean to insult you, my lord. Please, I don’t want you to think-“

He cut right over her. “My lady, if any other man had spoken to me like that I would have called him out.”

She blinked in horror, fretting about what trouble Mace had got himself into now. _Now there was going to be a duel?_ “You’re going to call him out?” she nearly squeaked in horror.

Rupert made a noise of sheer frustration and irritation. “No, but you have to understand my intense displeasure at the outcome of this meeting. I came here in good faith, for Margaery’s sake and have earned nothing but insults on return. Pray tell me, how am I meant to respond to that?”

In all honesty, there wasn’t a great deal Alerie could say as a comeback there.

“Margaery, Lord Craven and I are going and not a moment too soon.” He said sternly, although he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.

Margaery ran down the stairs to him. She was not remotely dressed decently, wearing nothing but her shift and dressing gown but she was too distressed to care. Her bare feet slapped against the cold marble of the staircase. Her curls fell down round her shoulders in glorious disorder.“Rupert, please. Don’t leave!”

“Did you hear what he said to me?” he said with a haughty polite coldness.

“Yes, we were listening on the stairs.” She admitted.

“So you heard everything?”

Margaery had to agree, her eyes downcast as she realised just how furious he was. She gave him an apologetic smile trying to soothe him. “Aye, my lord, I did. I didn’t think he would take it that far, nor say what he did.”

Rupert was unmollified by her pleading, his jawline tensed. “You understand that I cannot stay here, not after what your father said to me?”

Mace’s words had wounded him deeply, striking at his deepest misgiving about this new relationship with the girl. Margaery could have howled at the setback to her budding relationship with Rupert. After all that time trying to persuade him that their feelings towards each other were not wrong!

Was he blaming her for her father’s hostility? Or did he now think that this was some kind of mocking set-up, that she was just using him to rebel against her father? He was probably regretting ever being involved with her by now. She was about to lose her greatest ally in her struggle to avoid Joffrey's clutches. Damnation!

“I know, I’m sorry. I never thought that he would say such things to you.” She pleaded.

Craven stepped in to smooth down ruffled feathers, before Rupert said something he might regret. “My lady, I think ‘tis time to leave. I’m sure his Grace will get in touch with you later.”

_Could she really blame him if he washed his hands of her and walked away?_

"And he won't hold this situation against us?"

Craven sighed, caught between two social hazards, and knowing all too well how angry and offended the Prince was. He didn’t have the same scalding temper of his Grandfather James I for nothing, and Craven had witnessed it many a time. "I'm sorry but I couldn't say, Lady Tyrell. The entire situation is unfortunate-"

* * *

Margaery hardly cared that the entire street could probably see them arguing. This was far too important to her to worry about what the neighbours might think.

“You’d best get in before you catch your death. You’re not dressed for the chill.” He said brusquely, sweeping his cloak from his shoulders and wrapping it round her. 

"I'm not going until we've sorted this!"

"There is nothing more to be said, I would say?"

Margaery had to keep trying, unwilling to cede defeat, “Rupert, please! I know it’s hard, but please find it in your heart to forgive him!”

His face twisted as he struggled with his pride, “Margaery, your father insulted me, in a way that I don’t know that I can ever forget.” 

“They’re just words, my lord,” as soon as she said those words she realised her blunder. His royal pride would not allow him to lightly brush off her father’s accusation.

“Shall I just turn my cheek and forget he called me a pervert?”

The coldness in his voice struck her to the core. “He didn’t mean it!”

With an effort, he put her from her. “He did.”

“He’ll calm down and come to terms with us in time, please ser,” she cajoled him, “- once he realises how important you are to me.”

He gave her a disbelieving look. “Will he ever come round?”

“Rupert!”

That clipped sardonic voice kept on, cold and elegantly brutal in it’s efficiency went on, ”D’ye think we’ll ever sit tranquilly together as a family at the dinner-table without him thinking: ‘There’s that dirty old man who is tupping my daughter?’ Somehow, my Lady Margaery, I doubt it!”

Gods, had she ever met someone as stubborn and unyieldingly holding a grudge! Mary obviously knew what she was talking about when she called him ‘maddening’! “Rupert, I’m trying so hard to make this right. Work with me here!”

“Do you realise the insult he has paid me? I have killed men for less.” He gritted out.

She’d heard the stories about him during the war, and the duels he had fought. He was immensely kind and caring to her, but she should never forget that he was inherently ruthless, a man of war, a man with blood on his hands. He had meant exactly what he’d said.

 

“So you you’re going to call my father out? You’ll kill him?” she burst out.

He stepped back absolutely white with anger, Craven stepped forward to intercede before things escalated into a fight.

“What? Why would you ever think that I would harm any member of your family? Is that what you think of me, Margaery?” he bit out, appalled by her statement.

“You’re so angry, you won’t listen to reason. I’ve never seen you like this! You’re not like this with me, never! You’re kind and loving and caring.” _I make you happy! You told me this!_

“He didn’t mean it!”

With an effort, he put her from her. “He did.”

“He’ll calm down and come to terms with us in time, please ser-“ she cajoled him, “- once he realises how important you are to me.”

She could not bear the thought that he was going to walk away from her, and that she was going to lose his friendship and his love, “But you want me, you know you want me, please don’t walk away from me. I couldn’t bear it! I need you ser, I love you-“ she stopped, shocked that she had revealed so much.

“Why is it that I end up spilling my heart to you every single time?”

 

He stood before her, his face still pale but grave and unmoving as a statue.

She gave him a rueful little smile, having no more to lose. “Well, ser, now you know. Madly infatuated with you. You ought to put me out of my misery. Just as my father will not bend, I can’t give you up.”

His finger were gentle and reverent as they caressed her chin and the curve of her lips. There was a world of yearning in his touch.

“In matters of the heart, you are so brave Maggie that you quite humble me.” he said quietly.

She looked up with hope, scarcely daring to believe they could salvage something from this disaster of a night, “Ser-"

“I told you in the park that your feelings were returned, and that still holds, did I not?”

"I thought...I thought you'd decided I was not worth it any more..that I-"

He shook his head, reassuring her with kisses. “I’ve been an ass! A stubborn proud unbending ass! And I’ve hurt you, you who are most precious to me.”

She was pressed up against the door as he bent down and kissed her thoroughly, feeling like she was about to into a puddle of sheer boneless longing. Despite the disaster of the evening and the prince’s pride, his attraction to her still burned bright.

“Please…Please don’t walk away from me.” She breathed, clinging onto him, "You have no idea of how much I need you, ser."

“I shan’t, dear heart.” he sighed, “I know what is honourable, what is right, and yet I cannot. I…I find it impossible to let you go. God forgive me for my weakness for you.”

"Why do you call it weakness, Rupert?"

“You are too important to me." he held her close. "For you, I would risk a great deal." 

“What we have together is not wrong. It’s the most positive, most honourable thing in my life right now, I won’t give it up because my father won’t understand. Call me selfish, but I can’t.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Despite what your father says to me. I will prove to him and the rest of the damned world if I must that my intentions towards you are honourable, and that means that until you are free, we can’t.”

However she didn't like the thought of being parted from him, wanted to be his in every way possible, she had to admit he had a point. They would just have to wait, however hard it would be.

"He had no right to say those terrible things. No right at all!"

 He did not disagree with her, she noted.

“You still want me?”

“None of this is your fault, my angel. Yet I have been so rude to your poor mother, who tried to make me so welcome in your home. Ach! This did not turn out the way that I expected. I thought he might not be utterly on board, but-“

“Why was he so angry with you?”

“Well, he must have resented my conversation with him at the Greene Lyon, and I suspect, though I can’t prove it yet, that someone at Court has been telling him tales and stirring up trouble. I have made a pig’s ear of this!”

At this point she was inclined to agree, but she had more sense than to set him off again by saying it.

“I couldn’t Maggie, darling, even if I tried.” He held her tight against him. She relaxed and melted into his strong arms.

“For no other would I endure such insult.” She heard him mutter above her, but his affectionate caresses still continued. He sighed, acknowledging his own weakness for her. “Oh Maggie, I would have you barefoot in your shift, if you’d have me.”

“We will find a way to be together, I promise you. However long it takes, mein herz.”


	12. Keep a Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pippa persuades a friend to come to England to help Margaery.
> 
> Garlan is very concerned about his younger sister, but perhaps he finds out more than he bargained for about her love life, leading to a very awkward situation for Margaery.
> 
> Leonette finds out exactly how serious Margaery is about Rupert. It comes as a shock, let's just say...
> 
> notes: there are some references later to past sexual violence towards women (reffering to Joffrey) very much like in Game of Thrones (the TV show). If this is something that triggers or disturbs you, please please protect yourself and skip the chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rogue update! I haven't been around for months because I have been in hospital being very ill but I thought I would update this as I have been thinking about what would happen next.
> 
> As usual, comments at the bottom. I do genuinely want to know what you think!

Joffrey couldn’t believe that Margaery was in love with someone else, and even more insultingly, she made no effort to hide it from him or the rest of the world. She was allowing the Prince to court her, to buy her presents, spending time with him alone, reportedly at his lavish Whitehall apartments, if the gossips were to be believed. 

Was she out of her mind?

She had never really taken their relationship seriously and he hadn’t expected her to, but now he wanted more concrete declarations of intent and since he was her fiance, it was more than enough time that he demanded his rights. His creditors were getting noisier and noisier, day by day, week by week, and his promises to pay them out of Margaery's dowry were wearing thin. Drinkwater was getting impatient, and Joffrey knew the only reason he had not had another dose of roughing up by his minions was due to that rash desperate promise that he would soon have access to her dowry. She was a delectable prize, even if she was a damn sight too independent for his liking. 

_I have to seal the deal, and soon for my creditors are waiting and they are becoming less and less patient by the week. Margaery must be mine. Time to put the plan in motion..._

* * *

Paris, Sunday Morning

The bedclothes were pushed away as Pippa rose from the bed, and opened the door for the maid, who set the tray for breakfast, bobbed a curtsey and made herself scarce. The mistress was very particular about being woken at the weekend, and although mostly kindly, she knew when to be discreet and disappear - especially when Mademoiselle Pippa had company.

A strawberry blonde head of hair emerged from the bedclothes, charmingly dishevelled and rather bleary. "Ai, Pippa, it is far too early in the morning for all this, come back!"

She gave her companion a fond amused smile, rumpling her curls with a cheeky hand. "Ninon, it's nearly ten of the clock, besides you have mail."

Incurably nosy, Ninon perked up at once, sleepiness vanished, forgetting her grumpiness in her insatiable curiosity, "Mail? On a Sunday?"

Pippa knew she had her then, Ninon simply loved an intrigue and once her appetite was whetted she would pursue the story like a gazehound, "With a royal seal, straight off the boat from England." she hinted, waving the letter just out of reach to entice Ninon into rising from her bed.

Ninon pouted, knowing her friend's wiles all too well,"Well, hand it here! Who's it from? Pippa, ma cherie, you are such a tease!"

"It's from Rupert, I don't doubt. I have been expecting him to get in contact with you for a while now." Pippa said, finally letting Ninon have her letter.

"Prince Rupert? Tall, dark, broodingly handsome, a bit melancholy for me-" That caught Ninon's attention as she scanned the missive with a practiced eye, taking in the Prince's request. "So who is this maid, and how has she managed to get a powerful man like Prince Rupert to champion her?"

"She's a friend of Evie's and the family are prosperous and well-thought of throughout the Reach. They've been decent patrons of mine in the past."

"She's one of _those_ Tyrells?" Ninon was definitely interested now, "Isn't she the one who is following in your footsteps? Divorcing a lord and going on the stage? I have no doubt her family must be absolutely thrilled." her mouth turned up ironically at the corner.

"Hence her move onto the stage. By all accounts, she's not that bad, a swift learner and the girl has decent vocals. But I can't help but wonder how long she'll stick at it." Pippa mused, "- still she's no shrinking violet. She had the guts to get a position in the King's company and keep it and I hear on the grapevine she'd had some modest successes in London so far. But last time I talked to her, she had some serious concerns about her imminent betrothal to Joffrey Baratheon, of all people. Can you imagine?" 

Ninon's nose wrinkled in disgust at the mention of the young man. Her opinion of him was even less favourable then Pippa's. "Him? Who on earth would shackle their daughter to that brute?"

"Obviously, she's attempted to find some allies in her attempt to get rid of Joffrey, and you know what Rupert was like of old. Gallant to a fault. Never could resist a damsel in distress, bless him."

"Well, let's see what her champion has to say about all this, then?"

_  
**Ma cherie Ninon**_

**You will forgive me for writing to you of a delicate matter, but I feel most obliged to broach the subject on behalf of an estimable young lady - Margaery of House Tyrell, who finds herself betrothed to Joffrey Hill, named Baratheon.**

**I believe you and Phillippa Foley have some pertinent information about the young man and his abhorrent exploits in Paris towards ladies of your profession. It is my deepest desire to prevent any more of the boy’ crimes, but I need your assistance.**

**If you could come to Britain briefly and tell your story, I can endeavour to have your story told to my cousin. Though it is of small consolation, some justice may be done in this sad case.**

**I am ever your most faithful friend,**

**PR. Rupert**

"So what think you of this?" Pippa asked, after she had finished reading.

There was an interested gleam in her eye, that Pippa knew only too well, "Well, I am certainly intrigued enough to think about popping over. Why not?" 

"Ninon?"

There was a twinkle in her eyes as she looked winsomely up at Pippa, amusement spreading across her face. Pippa knew her friend and she was definitely up to something, of that Pippa had no doubt.

* * *

Back in London

Margaery got the note from Pippa a week later, just when she was starting to wonder if she was going to get any help from across the Channel. Just a couple of words on a scent drenched scrap of vellum, but they chilled her to the heart. She opened the letter and had to sit down and take a deep calming breath, her heart racing, Rupert giving her a worried look over the dinner table at the look on her face.

"Mein Herz, what is wrong? Bad news?" he asked, putting down his pamphlet and giving her his full attention.

She showed the note to Rupert, trying not to let her hand shake. He scanned the paper, dark brows pulled into a frown of concentration as he took in the words.

**_Dear Margaery,_ **

**_I have returned and I have Mimi and Ninon with me. When can we meet?_ **

**_Pippa_**

"I need you to be with me."

He nodded, understanding her apprehension, the fact that she would have to finally face proof of what Joffrey was capable of. _Could she face the truth? What was Joffrey capable of once she was his, and was she in danger if she went through with the betrothal like a dutiful daughter?_

"Thank you. I know this isn't your problem, but-" she started to say.

Rupert was swift to reassure her, “I will be here by your side, if you want." he said with a gentle squeeze of her hand in his over the table. "You only have to ask, dear girl."

To have him by her side, as her champion, His support of her meant more than she could ever say.

"Thank you, my Lord." she smiled up at him. "I know not what I would ever do without you."

His eyes were soft and loving as he met her gaze. She felt the strength and faith he had in her like a physical force, supporting her and holding her up, encouraging when she doubted herself. _He's such a great man, and yet he truly cares. I can do anything if he is by my side._ “We’ll see this through together. I made you a promise.”

* * *

Spring Gardens, evening

Garlan was not sure if he would be admitted into the Prince's apartments, especially after the rather disastrous dinner party of a few weeks ago. His mother was convinced that Mace had offended Prince Rupert incredibly, beyond repair and it was lucky that he had not been called out. To be honest, he couldn't really understand what his father had against the man, but he knew his father was stubborn to a fault, and held a grudge for no reason at times. Leonette was equally convinced that there was no way that Margaery would give the Prince up, not after what she had seen at dinner.

"She's completely smitten with him, couldn't you see?" she confided in him as they went to bed. "Look how she spends all her time there with him. She talks about him all the time. And you saw how she was at the dinner-party? Holding hands under the table like sweethearts. An I saw them from our bedroom window kissing on the front doorstep."

"Father won't like it," he said with a gloomy foreboding that there was going to be family conflict, very soon. "You heard him, he was dead set against Rupert, though I'm not sure why?"

"They seemed very close," Leonette had a frown on her pretty face as she turned to her husband in bed, "Do you think that she really does love him? Enough to dump Joffrey Baratheon and defy Father?"

All Garlan could do is nod. "Aye, I fear so."

 _I hope you know what you're doing, Margaery. I really do..._ he thought to himself.

* * *

The servants seemed almost reluctant to let him in, which Garlan couldn't help finding quite odd. It did nothing to still his worries about his sister and exactly what she was doing with Prince Rupert.

"You wish to see the Prince, Lord Tyrell? I am not sure if he is available right now, but-" Will Legge told him at the door, clearly playing for time. "If you would like to mak an appointment I'm sure he will see you later in the week, his Grace is quite reasonable about audiences-"

"Please, I need to speak to Margaery. Can I at least see her?" Garlan appealed to their sense of fair play.

There was a rather eloquent yet awkward pause and a glance exchanged between Will and the butler which Garlan couldn't fail to catch. His suspicions were aroused, as he realised that they both knew more than they were letting on. _Why was it such a secret? Perhaps his father was right and his sister was having an affair with the Prince._

_She's here! Of course she's here!_

Is my sister here? Right now?" he asked them, surprising the men with his candour. They blinked, taken aback by his persistence, shocked by his boldness in invading the Prince's privacy.

"Ser, I really must insist-" the butler started to say as Garlan pushed past him. He almost tried to restrain Garlan, but his hands fell away as Garlan fixed him with a severe look. "She's my damned sister and he's old enough to be her father, would you stop me?"

Will looked mightily unhappy at being in this position, mediating between two people he had some sympathy for, but he fell back. "Lord Tyrell, I personally would leave well alone, but I cannot stop you. Just -" he looked at Garlan, man to man honestly exchanging opinion, "-try not to judge too harsh, aye? Rupert might be older than her, but he does care for her and he would treat her with honour. I've been with him for years, since the war and he's a good man. Lady Tyrell would want for nothing with him."

Garlan heard his words, but he had to persist. All he could do is repeat himself, "She's my sister."

Bowing his head, Will fell back.

* * *

As Garlan approached the sitting room, he could hear Margaery's voice, but as he had never heard it before, breathless and husky with need.

"Rupert...Rupert, love, I need you...I love you so much. Please, please-"

Garlan turned to Will in shock, mouth falling open, realising what was going on but the other man obviously did not want to be involved any more than he was.

Not knowing what he was going to be faced with, Garlan pushed the heavy door of the room open and blinked at the sight of Margaery and Rupert kissing ardently on the chaise-lounge. She was wrapped in a banyan of heavy expensive dark green and golden silk that Garlan didn't recognise and he assumed probably belonged to the Prince, her shoulder and bosom near enough bare and marked with visible kisses.

Garlan had known that Margaery and Rupert were probably lovers, but seeing her like that in the other man's arms, so wanton and desirous, wrapped in that opulent silk banyan practically half-naked and undone brought it home to him forcibly. _She's not a young maid any more, much as you still think of her as your little sister stitching her first sampler under the eyes of Septa Nysterica. She's been wed to Renly and divorced, what right do I have to interfere in her love-life?_ Yet he was still stunned to see her with a man she desired, a whole different side to Margaery he'd never known existed.

"Margaery?" it slipped out before he could stop himself.

She looked up, surprised to see her brother in her lover's house staring at her in shock. "Garlan? What are you doing here?". For one moment she was too startled to cover herself, and then she went crimson as she realised just how undressed she was. 

For a man who had been caught by someone near enough in flagrante, Rupert faced Garlan with remarkable self-possession. He removed his hand from her smallclothes and addressed him. "Lord Tyrell, this is rather a surprise? May I ask what you are doing in my house?"

It was an extremely awkward situation, but now that he had opened the door and discovered the lovers, he had to see this through. "May I talk to Margaery, your Grace? Alone?"

He saw the look that passed between them and knew this was going to take a long time to sort out. He wasn't looking forward to tackling her about what he'd just seen. Thank the Seven her father hadn't seen her, he would have had an apopoletic fit at the thought of his daughter dallying and making love with Prince Rupert. This situation was not going to go away soon, of that Garlan was sure.

"I haven't done anything wrong!" she sounded defensive as he pulled the luxurious fabric round her curves. Her bottom lip stuck out as she scowled, "Rupert and I were having a private moment, and-"

_'Private moment?' That had to be an understatement. Garlan was of the mind that had he turned up ten minutes later he might well have walked in on the lover in a far more explicit scene than the one he had witnessed which was bad enough. There were some things a brother never needed to know about his sister's love-life, frankly._

Garlan didn't want to argue with her right now, "Margaery, can we please just go home?"

For one moment she looked like she was going to rebel and stay with the Prince, but he seemed to be soothing her and persuading her not to make a fuss.

"Very well..." she said, starting to dress.

* * *

The Tyrell town house, the next day

**A poor tribute to your beauty from an admirer.** It said on the envelope 

Margaery broke the seal with excitement, knowing it was from Rupert. It even had a hint of his comforting scent that she grown to love so much. She imagined him carrying in his breast pocket before having it delivered to her. 

She would have known his hand anywhere. The firm strong lines of his handwriting, the vigour with which his quill nearly sliced through the paper. All unmistakably Rupert’s.

She opened the box with trembling hands, her heart beating hard behind her busk and then her mouth fell open in awe.

"Oh my!"

 _This couldn't all be for her,_ She told herself, dazzled by the contents of the box. There were huge chunks of topaz to go with the honey gold of her eyes, diamonds which dazzled with their icy lustre, fat pearls which glowed a warm shade of pink and her favorite jewels –emeralds- of course. It was like a glorious treasure trove from the pirate he once had been. She spotted a note at the bottom of the casket and lifted it out to read it.

_**I give you these gems but I would give you the world if I could. Have patience, mein herz, and be as brave as you have been and we will be together very soon. Nothing will keep us apart. Rupert.** _

Leonette found her sat at her dressing room table, the gems spread out of her lap in a dazzling heap. She was silently sobbing, her shoulders shaking with barely suppressed emotion.

"Darling, what's the matter? Why are you sobbing?" Leonette rushed to comfort her good-sister.

When she turned towards her Leonette saw Margaery's face was beaming with a blazing happiness through her tears, and she knew that things were far more serious than she had suspected. _Gods, she is desperately in love with him!_

"I'm so ridiculously happy, I can't bear it."

"Who gave you all of these?"

Margaery had the grace to blush prettily. Leonette took up the note and stared at the handwriting, her face falling as she realised the gravity of the situation.

“Margaery darling? What exactly is going on between you and the Prince Palatinate?” she said carefully after several moments.

“I-“

“And don’t tell me that there’s nothing going on. I saw you two at dinner-” Leonette insisted. “Look at these pearls!”

Margaery held them up against her creamy skin, enjoying the beauty of the gems. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they? It would be an honour to wear them!”

Leonette frowned, still looking at the mesmerising beauty of the pearls, which shimmered and glowed enticingly. “I don’t know if you really should be accepting things like this, no matter how spectacular.”

“Why not?” her chin went up in defiance, though her voice was still guarded.

“These are Queen Elizabeth of Bohemia’s pearls." Leonette said, unable to keep the awe from her voice, "I recognize them from her portrait in the Royal Gallery at Whitehall. Don’t you understand what this means?”

“What does it mean?” she hated the fact that in her own gentle way, Leonette was trying to make her feel guilty about her relationship with Rupert.

“A man does not give you jewels like that out of the goodness of his heart. He gave you his mother’s pearls! Even at her most impoverished, when the creditors were banging on the door, and the children wrote begging letters to the old king and sold Louise's paintings to keep food on the table, Elizabeth never sold them, for they are beyond price! This is a king’s ransom in your lap.”

“He wanted to give them to me. I didn’t ask him to. It was ungracious to refuse.” She knew she sounded defensive and she didn’t care. _We've done nothing wrong!_

Leonette sighed, the sympathy in her eyes hurting like a knife cut. “If only it was that simple-“

“What’s not simple about it? These are gifts-“

Leonette’s voice rose, exasperated by the fact Margaery deliberately seemed not to be getting it. “He gave you his family’s royal gems. All his worldly goods! These are virtually priceless!”

Margaery fell silent, knowing that Leonette was right. _How much longer would she be able to conceal the truth from her family? How would her father, who still held a grudge against the prince react once he knew that they were secretly vowed to one another?_

“These are not the kind of jewels one gives a mistress. These are the kind of gems one gives a princess of the realm. The kind one gives a royal wife. Queen Catherine does not own such jewels and neither do Cersei Baratheon or Lady Castlemaine. I think they would be green with envy to receive them.”

Margaery fell silent in awe

“- But you and I both know in our hearts that Rupert cannot marry you, darling. He is a Prince of the Realm-” Leonette persisted.

“Leonette, please don’t say any more-“ she pleaded with her good-sister.

“Margaery, you do remember you’re still betrothed to Joffrey, don’t you? You’re going to give up a second match as glorious as the first for a man who can never marry you?”

_How could she ever forget? Everything always came back to that, the diabolical bargain she’d struck to retain her title and please her father, and yet more and more it was becoming a price she could not pay. The thought of being with Joffrey for life, allowing him to disrespect her day after day sounded like an unrelenting hell on Earth._

“Mace will never agree to you being with Rupert, no matter how you want him, or he wants you. He is deadly serious about disowning you if you don’t marry Lord Baratheon and regain that duchy.” Leonette embraced her, stroking her curls. “Sweetheart, I can’t let you throw away your future on a dream. This is your last chance, remember?”

“It’s not a dream, Leonette, and if it is, I don’t ever want to wake up.”

_Gods, she has got it bad!_

"He asked Father for my hand." Margaery confessed.

"I'm sure that Mace loved that!" Leonette remarked. "So he actually wanted to wed you."

“Of course he did, he loves me!”

Leonette saw the radiant happiness on her face as she talked of the Prince and silently wondered how this was going to work out. Somewhere along the line, there was going to be a reckoning, as her will clashed with her father's, and Leonette worried about the fallout. 

“This is a fantasy, a dream that simply can’t come true. I’m sorry Margie, I really am. I understand what it must be like. Rupert's a hero, a great man and he swept you off your feet, but-”

“You do, Leonette, do you?”

Margaery loved her good-sister. Her and Leonette had quickly become the greatest of friends. But she didn’t understand what was between Rupert and herself. She couldn’t understand.

“I can’t tell you what to do. Your own conscience must guide you. But you need to make a decision and soon. Which man will win your heart?”

Margaery didn’t have the heart to tell Leonette that her mind was made up already. Joffrey had never even stood a chance.

* * *

Pippa and Ninon arrived at the Prince’s house with a woman masked and cloaked. She made no eye contact, shrinking away from the gaze of others. Rupert and Margaery received them at his townhouse in Whitehall. This was important to her, and she desperately needed his support

Ninon de Lenclos was a stylish woman of great charm and an ageless beauty which defied anyone to guess quite how old she was. Her bright sparkling eyes, confident elegant bearing and knowing ironic smile would have been quite intimidating if it hadn’t been for Pippa’s reassuring presence.

She greeted Margaery in friendly tones, assessing her keenly. Margaery definitely got a sense that she was being weighed professionally in the balance.

"So you're Lady Marguerite Tyrell. Philippa has told me so much about you and your tres jolie famille." She said in a pleasantly accented voice, settling her chic silken skirts around her and flicking out her painted fan with one elegant movement Margaery could not help but envy.

"Ninon is a great friend of mine. She knows everyone in Paris," Pippa paused, a faintly trouble-making gleam in her eyes, unable to resist digging a little of the past. "A long time ago you even knew Prince Rupert well enough, did you not, ma cherie?"

"Pippa, come, that's ancient history now. I haven't seen you for years, my lord?" cajoled Ninon with a charming smile, which made Margaery wonder how exactly he knew Ninon and how closely. _Close enough to ask her for help, evidently..._

"You are engaged to this Joffrey?" Ninon asked with unabashed curiosity. Her frank direct gaze was quite unnerving to Margaery.

"Yes, unfortunately."

Ninon's little rosebud mouth pursed in disapproval, looking like a very serious schoolgirl trying to figure out an equation. "Why? What on earth did you do?"

"I divorced my first husband Renly Baratheon, who was a duke. My father is desperate for me to regain the title which was stripped from Lord Renly once he was exiled and so far my father will not listen to any dissent. He is obsessed by the fact that Cersei's and our lands would make a fine inheritance across the south of the country, and since I am already divorced it would be ideal if I regained my title by marrying her son." Margaery explained.

"It would be the practical option, if it wasn't for Joffrey." Pippa mused, "but I'm sure we can all agree that this cannot and must not happen?"

Everyone round the table agreed.

"You absolutely refuse to marry Joffrey?" Ninon looked at with interest. "Despite the betrothal? Your Father must be vexed, I imagine?"

"I have been forced to defy him, and so since he cut me off I have taken to a career on the stage. I won't be forced into a match if I have concerns about my safety." Margaery insisted.

"Well, you did the right thing finding out exactly who you are about to marry and God willing it shall never happen." Pippa said.

"Mimi, ma cherie, won't you come and talk to my friends?" Ninon urged the mystery maiden who still hid her face behind her plain black mask and was silent all through their conversation, head bowed." We are safe here, we are in good hands."

The woman slowly removed her mask, her hands trembling as she tried to still her fears, afraid still after all these years.

Margaery stared at the wreckage of Mimi's face in shock, her mouth falling open, forcing herself not to stare too openly. _Whatever she had been expecting it wasn't this!_

 _Gods, what the hell did he do to her?_ The woman wore a patch over her eye. Margaery could see that her nose, once delicate and straight, was bent grotesquely out of shape, her cheekbone once high and fine was sunken on one side, her eye puffy and slightly closed giving her a distinct squint. She couldn't help but mourn for the wreckage of the girl's ruined beauty.

Once she would have been exquisite, a true jewel. She knew that she had done the right thing refusing to wed Joffrey, if this was what he was capable of. Seeing physical proof of his capacity for violence made her feel ill, sick to the stomach that she'd had such a narrow escape from Joffrey's brutality.

"Mademoiselle Mimi, how did this happen?" Rupert asked Mimi with a gentleness that made Margaery admire him. _He really does care. Mary was right he is a good man."_

"It was Joffrey Baratheon. He did this to me. He likes to play mad games with cross-bows and whips, chasing us all around the chateau and taking us roughly when we were caught. I could deal with a bruise or two, patrons will do as they will, but this..."

The casual way she talked about the sexual violence she had encountered in her former profession was frankly chilling, but Margaery and Rupert allowed to to talk and get the whole harrowing experience off her chest. It must have been a relief to do so, all that pain and poison drained at last.

"I know his type we deal with them all the time, spoilt cruel lords, bored and looking for the next thrill, seeking the newest sensation, but Joffrey was ... well, he was different." her voice faltered to a stop, "He enjoyed to hurt us, enjoyed the pain."

"Christ's bones!" Rupert muttered under his breath, appalled at the truths Mimi was spilling to them.

"It troubled me from the beginning, I admit it, but he paid well and we had no reason to believe at the time he would behave so." Ninon looked grim. "I blame myself for allowing the situation to get so out of hand. I should have checked up on him, protected our Mimi better."

Mimi resumed her tale, "He lost his temper when I complained about my bruises and broken bones."

"Broken bones?" Rupert sounded thoroughly appalled, unable to restrain his shock and horror.

Mimi nodded, "Aye, your Grace. When I said that I would tell Ninon about his treatment, he was furious at not getting his way.There was another girl Solange, we used to work as a team. He beat her too, badly. Her injuries were as bad as mine." 

Pippa's face twisted with disgust. "Without the approval of Ninon he would not be welcome of all the best salons and societies of Paris. Joffrey knew that, so he attempted to get Mimi to change her story, to silence her. But she had already told us the truth."

"So what happened?" Margaery almost didn't dare ask, but she had to know the truth, however unpalatable it might be.

"He trapped me in his chamber, bolted the door and tried to force me to detract my accusations." her quiet dispassionate recital of his treatment of her made it worse. "He beat me until I would retract my words, but I wouldn't." she looked Margaery right in the eye, "I couldn't!"

Margaery turned pale at the horrors the girl was telling. She blindly searched for Rupert's hand, seeking the warm comfort of his grasp.

Mimi looked at Margaery right in the eye, female to female. There was a dignity in her battered features that hadn't been there before, a burden she had finally set down with the confession of her story. "Promise me, Madame, that he won't get away with it."

Rupert nodded, his face sombre. "He won't."

"I had the world at my feet, and now I must live on charity. If it was not for Madame Ninon, I do not know what would become of me," Mimi admitted, tears welling in her eyes, "I don't mind admitting 'tis hard to accept."

The tears started to run heedlessly down the ruin of her face, beyond any control. Mimi started to sob freely, remembering all she had lost.

"I promise." Margaery told her, near enough tears herself at Mimi's tale. What else could she say?

* * *

Hampton Court, a few days later

“Just a moment, isn’t that?-” Sansa’s voice trailed off as she spotted two of their party emerging from the wood.

The Prince and Margaery emerged from the forest one by one, looking rather rumpled and flushed. Margaery had twigs and leaves in her wild curls looking like some wild forest nymph ravished by a god of the hunt. Her lovely lips were all reddened and swollen as if they had been kissing extensively. 

_What’s been going on there?_ Sansa thought. _What has she been doing with the Prince?_

Her smart riding habit was all buttoned up wrong. There were moss stains all over it, it was going to be hell trying to get those out of the soft light brown velvet of her riding habit. It was most unlike Margaery to be so careless of her fine clothing. Her friend loved fashion even more than she did, and delighted in being the mirror of fashion. 

After a minute the prince strode past looking equally dishevelled which was mightily out of character. Cravat loosened around his neck, his shirt and coat opened, there was moss and bark all over the fine dark brown velvet of his coat. He lifted his hat, distractedly acknowledging her and Theon, catching his eye and mouthing something she did not catch. Theon seemed to, giving a slight nod.

What was going on there? she wondered. She tried to nudge Theon, and encourage him to let her in on the mystery, but he had suddenly become extremely quiet.

 _Bloody men and their conspiracies of silence!_ She thought, with much exasperation.

* * *

“Hullo, sweet pea!” Margaery’s smile seemed a little strained but her greeting was as warm as ever as Sansa entered her chamber.

“How did you get all those stains on your lovely riding habit? What were you doing in the wood with the Prince?”

Margaery flushed peony red, fidgeting with the silver hairbrush and perfume bottles on her dressing table. She knocked one over and hurriedly picked it back up again. Sansa noticed her fine pale hands were shaking. _It’s most unlike Margaery to be so agitated._

“Maggie darling, is there something that you’re not telling me?” she asked carefully. _Gods, she really is keeping secrets from me!_

“You mustn’t say anything! Please, promise you won’t say a word!” Margaery pleaded.

Sansa was startled by her fervency. “But I thought… you and the king…you were sent for by Prodgers. I thought…”

“That I was the king’s new mistress?” Margaery shook her head firmly, letting the rumpled curls tumble becomingly over her shoulders. “Oh no, you don’t have to worry about that, Sansa.” 

“You’re not sleeping with his Majesty?” Gods forgive her for that rebel little spark of hope at her words. Charles had strayed, but perhaps he really did want her. "- but everyone said..."

Margaery gave her a curious look, but tactfully did not remark on Sansa’s slip.

“That’s over and done with now.” Margaery said firmly. “Can I tell you a secret? We were never together in the first place!"

Sansa was astounded by her friend's confession. Margaery and the king had been very convincing: half the court were still convinced that they were carrying on.

"Um, it just suited both of us to let people think what they will.” Margaery confided. "People were going to talk anyway, why not throw them off the scent a little?"

"But you were involved with someone else- the prince- the whole time?" 

Margaery coloured a little, nodding as she did so.

_I should not be feeling relief. I should not be feeling relief. Oh thank the Gods they’re not together!_

“You mustn’t say anything to anyone else. Not even as a jest!” Margaery warned her friend.

“Of course I won’t, not if it’s important to you! 

Margaery flashed her a sweet smile, “Thank you, I appreciate it more than I can say.”

“But won’t you tell me what’s going on?” Sansa asked, feeling like there was so much that Margaery was not telling her.

"I wish I could, I really do! I wish I could shout it from the roof-tops! But it's not the right time, and I don't want to endanger what we have." her eyes were shining and radiant and she had that dreamy little smile that she always seemed to have around him. She'd had that smile since the trip of the royal barge. "I can't, it's well-"

“So have you? Are you lovers?” Sansa couldn't help but ask.

“Not yet,” Margaery confided, “He won’t do it until I’m free. But oh, I want him so much!” her blush deepened as she admitted something so personal, "I don't think I've ever truly felt like this about any man."

So what did this have to do with Margaery’s dalliance with the Prince? For all his formidable demeanour, Prince Rupert was still rather attractive in an ‘older man’ way and more than one lady-in-waiting swooned over his dark eyes, imposing figure and steely glamour. Sansa had also found that once she'd got to know him that he was remarkably kind and understanding to Arya and had a surprisingly dry sense of humour. He was rather dashing, passionate and bold, and was very tender and kind to her friend.

_Gods, can I really blame her for falling for him?_

 

Margaery’s eyes met her in the pier-glass. She bit her lip, looking troubled. “I wish I could. Really, I do…but everything’s so up in the air at the moment, I dare not. You do understand, darling, don’t you?”

Sansa wasn’t sure that she did, but since it seemed to mean so much to Margaery, she agreed to say nothing. She only hoped that the Prince’s intentions towards her friend were more honourable than Charles’s to her. And what was she going to do about Joffrey?


	13. An Unsuitable Alliance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carl-Louis finds out about his brother's romance and takes action to prevent what he sees as another family scandal. Margaery does not take this very well as she is determined to stay with Rupert and no threats from the Elector are going to put her off.

**Heidelberg, morning**

The Elector Carl-Louis prised off the heavy dark blue seal of his latest despatch from England, scanning the parchment with care as he worked through his weekly foreign correspondence. This particular letter caused much raising of eyebrows and frowning, as he re-read the missive over and over in disbelief. The words on the page did not change, no matter how many times he read it, more's the pity.

_This could not be happening! Trust his little brother Rupert to get himself in a scrape once more! As if it wasn't bad enough he'd shacked up with some slip of a Catholic lass from Ireland and fathered a bastard child on her in a cloud of scandal and talk of a morganatic marriage, now he was gadding around with an **actress,** of all things. A young beautiful worldly actress, wholly unsuitable to be the companion of a prince descended from Charlemagne and the Holy Roman Empire, Valyrian blood running strong in their veins. By all accounts she had got him all tied up in knots, spending a fortune wooing the girl, who had to be far too young for him, and now there were well placed whispers that Rupert was so far gone in love with this woman that he wanted to settle down, marry her and claim his principality. Not only that, Rupert was willing to swallow his considerable pride and ask permission from him, his liege-lord. _

A lot of water had gone under the bridge since the brothers had fallen out at Heidelberg and Rupert had vowed bitterly never to return to his brother's lands. Though it still stung that Rupert refused to give him their mother Elizabeth's famous pearls and that he refused just as strongly to marry a suitable eligible female and give him the chance of a legitimate heir at last, distance had mellowed their formerly stormy relationship down to a bit of bickering by post, more habit than anything else. Truth be told, sometimes he almost missed the stubborn old cuss, but Rupert could not really believe that he, Carl-Louis, Elector-Palatine would agree to such a mesalliance. _An actress! Little better than a whore, a courtesan at best! Really?_

_He must have lost his mind!_

He rung the bell with some force, near enough breaking the bell-pull. "Edelmann?"

His major-domo was there right away, pin-smart and bewigged in his livery, ready to serve. "How can I help you, your Grace."

Carl-Louis steepled his fine elegant hands in front of him. His face was grim, set with determination that this abomination would not happen on his watch. The mere thought of it was enough to have him grinding his teeth in annoyance and frustration, outraged that Rupert would have forgotten his elevated position so much as to dally with this designing cunning wench - well, he had always associated with low people, even from their youth in the Hague frequenting taverns, talking avidly to sailors about their fantastic voyages and hanging around that old reprobate Gerrit van Honthorst's studio, "Get me the English Ambassador immediately, tell him to drop whatever he is doing and attend me. We have a problem."

Edelmann scurried away, full of self-importance, as Carl-Louis sharpened a new quill, dipped it in ink and started to write rapidly.

* * *

The King's Theatre, Drury Lane

The company were hard at work, running over the blocking for John Dryden's latest drama. They were running behind due to technical issues with the scenery and attempting to polish some complicated dance routines for the whole cast, so the company were staying until they had cracked Act Four. Margaery suspected the way thing were currently going that they would not leave until midnight, and she would be worn out and dead on her feet by tomorrow.

As the Prince entered the main hall at around his usual time ready to pick Margaery up at nine, the orchestra scraped to a discordant stop. Though his face was grim and unsmiling, he patiently settled at the back of the hall and waited politely for them to finish.

"Alright, once more ladies, start from the top." intoned Kynaston, who was determined to get everything right, and feeling the pressure from the looming deadline.

"Left, right left, swing those hips, good...not too much please, Ladies...Peg!"

"Sorry!" Peg blew him a kiss to mollify him, as charming and adorable as ever, before he had a fit of artistic perfectionism and threw a temper tantrum, declaring that they were all useless and he was on his way to join the Duke's company on the morrow. Everyone knew it was an empty threat, but Ned was high-strung and prone to throwing fits, especially near a performance. 

"Maggie, you're going to have to damn well practice that, you keep missing the kick on bar 14 and you'll trip on the skirts of your costume if you do." he spotted Beck starting to smirk as she was enjoying hearing her rival reprimanded and pounced on her. "-and you can stop smirking, Beck! At least Maggie has the steps mostly down and her posture and grace are as perfect as a lady born and bred, you look like you're hefting round a sack of meal."

Beck's mouth opened in outrage, her dark eyes snapping with fury at being shown up in front of the company on Margaery's account. She shot her a filthy look, backed up by her sister Ann who was right behind Margaery in the dance figure. Margaery felt the heavy tread of a foot on the hem of her costume, but managed to tug it free before they started and she tripped up onstage more severely. "Mind your step, Ann." she said out of the side of her mouth so quietly that only Ann caught her threat. "You dare tear this costume, and you'll be up all night mending it." she eyed her right back boldly, daring her to try it.

Kynaston noticed the ripple of discord amongst his ladies and quelled it swiftly. The last thing he needed was a spat between his leading ladies, and though he had noticed Beck's campaign against Margaery, he'd already noted that the new girl was capable of looking after herself. Hark how swiftly he had enlisted Prince Rupert as her personal protector, ready to indulge her and defend her honour! "Ladies?"

He spotted the Prince waiting for Margaery and even though he was determined to finish this damned act, he was aware that he could hardly keep the Prince waiting any longer, "Very well, take a quarter hour break and then we must crack on. I am dead set on finishing the play all the way through before the end of rehearsal, and we'll stay all night until it's done."

The company groaned, rubbing sore insteps and stretching tired muscles, but they gratefully dispersed for now, happy to have the brief break he had allotted them.

Backstage

Rupert followed Margaery backstage, face still grim. She wondered what it could be that was troubling him as she didn't think it was the lateness of the rehearsal. He looked as if he badly wanted to tell her something, but was waiting for them to have some privacy. From the tense grim silence, she didn't think it was going to be good news, whatever it was.

She turned to him with impatience, wanting to get this over with, conscious that she did not have much time before she had to return to the rehearsal. "What is it Rupert, darling? Something is bothering you?"

He looked at her for a very long time in silence, almost as if he were deciding what to say to her. Margaery gazed up at him, willing him to unburden himself. _What could be so terrible that he found it hard to confide in her? They were meant to be in this together, isn't it what he always said to her?_ Frankly, he was starting to scare her a little.

"I received a letter I had been awaiting for a while from my brother, Carl-Louis. I'm afraid...well, it's not good news mein herz," Rupert started, taking her hands in his. All of a sudden he hugged her tightly, rocking her in his strong close embrace. "Oh Schatzi, I would marry you tomorrow if I had my way. I adore you, but my damned brother-"

Margaery had a good idea of what had happened now, she knew that Rupert had written to his brother about them asking for his blessing. She also knew Carl-Louis was a bit of a snob and was probably having fits at the thought of a brother of his marrying beneath him. She knew how people looked down on her new profession, assuming that since she performed onstage, that she was little better than a whore, on sale to the highest bidder. She had hoped that Carl-Louis could see past that, but evidently not. 

"Rupert, listen to me. I don't have to marry you to want to be with you."

"But Maggie, love, I want to do the honourable thing by you. Baratheon at least offers you his hand. If I cannot do the same, then what right do I have to-"

Margaery set him straight, laying a hand on the fine Navy wool of his Admiralty coat, "Rupert, listen to me. I want to be with you, don't you understand? Of course, I would love to be yours completely and I am humbled and honoured that you asked Carl-Louis for your inheritance purely so you could wed me, but truth be told, I don't need it.

"You don't?"

" As long as I am by your side, I don't need a wedding. You forget, my lord, I have been wed before and much good it did me."

Rupert still looked a little doubtful, but she lent up to kiss and reassure him, snuggling into his reassuring strength. He sighed, his arms tightening round her, "Ser, it's going to take a lot more than that to part us. Now I really do have to return as poor Ned is having conniptions about Act V."

* * *

The Tyrell town house, the next day

Even though she had put a brave face on it for Rupert, Margaery was still concerned about the Elector's negative response to their budding relationship. His uncompromising stance had thrown up quite an obstacle. Without his co-operation Rupert could not regain his patrimony as small as it undoubtedly was, and so couldn't make a decent counter-offer for her hand in marriage. She knew it bothered him, especially since he wanted to prove his intentions towards her were honourable.

Mace's jibe had really struck him to the heart. She knew about the challenges in their relationship: the difference in their status, her new profession and the age-gap between her and Rupert but truly she did not feel that these should drive a wedge between them, not when they as a couple had such promise. _I love him, heart soul and body and I'm not prepared to give him up for anyone or anything, come what may. I don't think I have ever felt about any man like this._

She was walking towards her house with Sansa from Madame Marianne's, eagerly discussing their purchases and her next salon when she was accosted by a stranger who very insistently blocked her path, just as they were about to arrive home. Margaery was tired after a long morning rehearsal dealing with Hart at his most demanding and in no mood to deal with importunate strangers. 

"Lady Tyrell? May we talk?" she recognised the slight accent and wondered what someone from the Palantine would want with her personally.

"Ser, what do you want?" she asked him bluntly, the sunny smile on her face disappearing. By the lift of her dainty chin and the flash of her honey gold eyes, Margaery meant business, "You have been following us for at least two streets. Think not that I did not notice, for you were hardly subtle."

The man hesitated at being addressed so boldly, eyeing the two young women. 

_Good, at least he can see that I am not easily intimidated. This is no shrinking violet you are dealing with!_

"Is there somewhere where we can go and talk in private, Lady Tyrell?"

Sansa gave her a worried glance, wondering if she should step in and defend her friend, but Margaery had been anticipating this field of combat and she was ready to engage. "Frankly, this is rather irregular but we can do this in the garden, if we must."

She felt a nudge at her side, "Maggie, what does he want? How rude of him to impose himself on you!"

Margaery did not like his insistence, but she knew that she would have to handle him with grace. First impressions were definitely going to be important in this case, "Don't worry about me. I can more than handle this situation."

\-------

The man was ill at ease as she led him into the garden, unlocking the gate. He visibly fretted as he followed the ladies, as if imposed with a duty he was reluctant to perform. Her intuition told her that she probably was not going to like what he told her, but she was strong enough to deal with whatever it was. _Well, it's not like Ii wasn't expecting something like this visit._

"Ser, please explain yourself. Who are you and furthermore, why were you so insistent on meeting me?" she sat down on the bench, settling her elegant floral sprigged skirts around her and looked up at him imperiously, putting him at quite a disadvantage.

The man gulped, not expecting her to be so forthright."My Lady, my name is Hans Edelmann and I was sent there by the Elector. He wanted me to meet you for myself."

Despite herself, Margaery bristled with offence at his tone, even though she had decided it was important to make a good first impression now that she was faced with someone representing Carl-Louis. She didn't like the way he looked at her, as if she were no better than she ought to be, a designing wench out to make her fortune at Rupert's expense.

"I have already read the letter that he was so kind to send Rupert." her voice was as cool as ice and just as unwelcoming.

"Then you will understand the concern that the Elector has for his brother."

She did not like what he was implying, the snide subtle references that told her he and his master thought her motives for getting together with Rupert were purely mercenary. 'Concern?' she was no fool, she knew exactly what he meant even though he did not have the stones to say it openly.

"My Lady, 'tis common knowledge that he lavishes gifts on you, spends time with you constantly, even gave you several royal jewels which were in the family for a long time and were beyond price."

"They were a gift!" she protested, already defensive because of her conversation with Leonette about Rupert's lavish present. _The type of jewels one gives a royal wife...even at her most impoverished, Elizabeth of Bohemia never sold them..._

"The Elector is very proud of his bloodlines and I'm afraid he was concerned that your current profession and the position of your House would not be elevated enough to allow an alliance."

She could not believe how he had the gall to insult her to her face, no wonder Rupert had not spoken to his elder brother in some time. Who the hell did he think he was! "I see that Carl-Louis has already made up his mind about me. It does not seem to matter that his Grace loves me and I adore him. He **wants** to be with me."

"My master is willing to make you a generous offer-" Edelmann started to say.

Thoroughly insulted now, she was not about to spare him. How dare he come here to her house and tell her to her face that she was not good enough to wed Rupert! The arrogance and snobbery of his master knew no bounds. No wonder Rupert wanted little to do with his elder brother if he was like this! "I'm sorry?"

"Madam-"

"I am not sure that I quite understand you, ser. You will have to speak more plainly," her cheeks were slightly flushed with anger and the cool breeze, daring him to insult her once more. As if she could be bought! Not in a hundred, nay a thousand years!

"The Elector is willing to give you a sizeable amount of money-" he started, just wanting to get the offer over with. "A generous yearly income..." 

She couldn't believe he had the front, the sheer effrontery to say this to her! "If?"

"My Lady, you are a woman of the world. I am sure you take my meaning?-" he trailed off with some delicacy, quaking at the reaction of this bewitchingly pretty girl with a backbone of steel. 

She just stared him down. Grande-mere Olenna would have been proud of her.

He steeled himself visibly for the coming unpleasantness, no doubt inwardly cursing his master for putting him in this awkward position, making him do his dirty work, never anticipating that Margaery Tyrell was no walk-over and would rout him thoroughly the moment he laid his proposal in front of her. "-if you left Prince Rupert and never saw him again."

"Well, that's not ever going to happen, so you and your master have just wasted your time." she snapped back, crisp and authoritatively. He wilted under the force of her scorn and sheer will. 

"Be reasonable, Lady Tyrell, it is not as if the Elector would let you go wanting. My master is a reasonable man. You are a fair maid, I have no doubt you would be able to find a more suitable patron soon." he said trying without much success to soothe her ruffled temper.

By the flash of her eye at his suggestion, he knew he had said the wrong thing, and she was going to dig her pretty silk clad heels in and refuse to budge,"I don't think you or Carl-Louis quite understand. The fact is I care for Rupert very much. You offend me greatly by even implying that I can be bought off!"

"His reputation...will you not consider Lady Tyrell?" he pleaded, losing hope of persuading her and rambling ever more offensively in his attempt to explain his master's will. "The Elector has nothing against you personally, for he knows you not, but we must be practical. You are simply not marriage material for the Prince. For all your families wealth, you have no blood royal in your veins. It cannot happen, you must see that. The Prince should have warned you-"

She was genuinely outraged now, "Did anyone ever consider that 'tis the Prince who wants to wed, not necessarily I?" she demanded, tense with righteous anger. If she were a man she would have called him out gladly for his disparaging insults, treating her as if she was nothing but a grasping jade who did not know her place, "-that he is an honourable man and loves me?"

"That cannot happen! Are you wed already? Is that you will not listen to the Elector's very generous and reasonable offer?" Edelmann sounded horrified by the thought he would have to return to his master and breaks the news that he was too late.

"We are not wed. But as far as I am concerned, it matters not." Margaery said with no small amount of dignity. "As long he wants me, I will be by his side, nothing you do or say will alter that." _You can't get rid of me that easily..._

"I am sorry to have caused you offence, my lady." Edelmann stared at her, scandalised by the thought and worried about the great man would react. he had realised that he had been defeated and there was no way that his master Carl-Louis would get his own way. Vanquished by a fair self-willed magnificent slip of a girl. No wonder the Prince was attracted to her, this one has beauty and spirit to match. She is worthy of him. "You're not going to tell the Prince of our conversation?" he added with a timorous glance at her, hoping not to offend the woman now that he acknowledged that she was going nowhere.

Margaery was not so willing to forgive, "Of course I am. Why would I not? I have no secrets from Rupert."

* * *


	14. Tunbridge Wells

Theatre Royal, Drury Lane

 

“They’ve selected our company to go down to Tunbridge to entertain the court on holiday. I’m so glad we got the contract instead of the Duke’s company," Killigrew said with satisfaction to Charles Hart as they discussed their good fortune with John Dryden.

"They might have Betterton, but we're more popular, more professional and favoured at court. There was no contest!" Dryden said with more than a hint of smugness. "Now if only we could lure him to work for us-"

"Never going to happen, we can't afford his fee, he'd bankrupt us in a season." Tom Killigrew did not say that frankly there was only space for one leading man's ego and dealing with Hart was bad enough as it was. He would not take kindly to a rival right on his doorstep, competing for roles and attention.

"Tyrion Lannister's debuting his court entertainment down there. Some of our lot have been assisting and taking small roles as well." Hart remarked.

The Loves and Triumphs of Venus had been the talking point of their small close-knit theatrical community, especially since Charles had been so uncharacteristically generous in funding it. No expenses spared, he'd promised Tyrion Lannister, and he'd been true enough to his word.

"I have to say that Sansa Stark in the 'The Loves and Triumphs of Venus' is a real find. Lovely little voice and she's pretty as a picture. Thank God they got rid of Barbara, she was an utter disaster!" Hart opined.

Hart did not hold back, "Couldn't hold a tune in a damned bucket and apparently she is an absolute nightmare to work with. Aphra was telling me that she's given everyone grey hairs during her stint as Venus. I did not think they would have the stones to get rid of Lady Castlemaine, but they managed it."

“Any idea of what we’re going to show? What have you and Shadwell got ready to perform?” Killigrew asked Dryden.

"Well, I've written a semi-opera for Maggie Flowers and Anne Marshall to get their teeth into; we’ve got that 'the Martyr of Morocco'; 'The Florentine Lover' has got great parts for Kate Corey, Nelly and Peg Hughes." 

“-and I daresay I could dust off my Valentinian-" Hart trailed off with more than a hint of false modesty, for it was unthinkable that Killigrew should put together his mini-season without showcasing his piece de resistance.

“The Florentine lover, isn’t that a bit racy? Those love scenes in Act Three…” Dryden said dubiously, even though he was delighted that they were going to put on one of his plays.

Killigrew raised his eyebrows, amused and worldly, “I rather thought that was the idea?” 

"We had a deal of trouble getting that one past the censors, I can tell you," Dryden chuckled, taking a large swig of wine and nearly spilling it down his cravat in his amusement.

"We’ll talk it up and premiere it down in Tunbridge. Anyone who is anyone will want to be there to see it," Hart said with confidence. A little controversy never hurt ticket sales!

* * *

Cersei

Cersei Lannister was hot, disgruntled and in a foul mood as she bumped along in the carriage to their holiday destination. She detested the yearly trip to Tunbridge Wells with all her heart. Every bloody year she had to come along as Charles refused to be without the children for more than a few days, so she was forced to drag herself from the comforts and pleasures of town, scramble to find decent lodgings and new clothes and wait for Charles to make time to see and her children. No matter how many temper tantrums she threw, Charles insisted.

_Ugh, it’s so irritating!_

She knew despite her sulks that she couldn’t risk losing her advantage especially with all those scheming jades just waiting to be seduced by Charles, and Barbara lording it over everyone as if she were the power behind the royal sceptre.

_I must maintain my position even if I rarely sleep with him. I am the mother of two of his children. I deserve this!_

At least Jemmy and Joffrey weren’t coming until later in the week. The young duke was as reluctant to forgo the pleasures of town and the appeal of a family holiday did nothing to make up for it.

* * *

## Tunbridge Wells

The court was in a ferment of excitement as the time for them to descend upon the idyllic country retreat of Tunbridge Wells came at last. London in summer was hot, sweltering and noisome and an escape to the country was most welcome.

“There is nothing better than a holiday in the country.” They whispered to each other, bubbling with excitement as they got their invitations to join the Royal party. Every single one a sign of the King's good favour and highly coveted by all.

The royal family delighted in shedding their normal formality and living simply with the bare minimum of servants to attend to their needs. Charles was in his element: fishing, riding, following the racing at Newmarket and going on long rambling walks with his brother and his cousin when they could prise the Prince away from his Admiralty reports.

“Rupe, will ye stop frowning over that ream of paper and at least come fishing with us!” Charles said in affectionate exasperation. The moment Rupert had arrived, he had dived nose first into a weighty report about Naval Supply lines and the shortages were obviously giving him a huge headache and making him crosser than a bear with a sore head. He'd also noticed him wincing a little in bright light and rubbing at his forehead when the Prince thought he was unobserved. Maybe his head was troubling him again, though he knew his cousin would have rather been dragged across hot coals than complain of any ailment.

“I would, but this needs my immediate attention, Sire. Can you believe—“ his brow darkened ominously as he frowned over his findings. “-that those barrels from Harmann and Sons were half-full, and sour to boot! The ship's biscuit was more weevil than flour! Why on earth have those crooks still got an official Navy contract?”

“Probably gave someone in the office a golden handshake,” muttered James with a cynical curl of his lip. “-half the office are corrupt as an off barrel of herring!”

“This is not a subject for amusement, someone needs to do something about that Pepys!” He gave them both a severe look down his long blade of a nose, as sharp and reproving as a disappointed schoolmaster appalled by his classes' failure the to grasp the intricacies of translating Homer from the original. “Rampant corruption and neglect, no wonder half our men are leaving the service to sail on merchant fleets rather than defending our country!”

The royal brothers looked at each other, having heard this rant before far too many times.

Charles cut in to keep the peace. “We’re on holiday, let us enjoy ourselves and cease to fret for a short while, Rupe. The Admiralty Office won’t fall to pieces because you aren’t there for three weeks breathing down their necks!"

Rupert did not look remotely convinced.

"Now, now Kate’s gone to all the trouble of hiring the King’s company to entertain us on holiday, haven’t you, sweetling?" Charles changed the subject, smooth as butter, making his stern elder cousin smile for the first time since they left London and push aside the hefty report, even if only for a moment. 

"Si, darling. They should be here tonight." Catherine flushed prettily as he slipped his arm round her waist, teasing her husband as he shamelessly flirted with her in front of them. "Charles, we're in public! Really!" 

"Is that so?"

"Aye, Catherine booked them to do a mini season for us, give us a little entertainment on our holiday. A marvellous idea, is it not?"

Charles had managed to find the one sure distraction for Rupert. It was surprising how effective it was, but then it was easy to see that Rupert had more than an vested interest in the King's company, especially a pretty little Highgarden lass with tawny burnished curls and a voice sweet as honey. Even though Carl-Louis had written to him bending his ear about the unsuitability of his brother's affair with the girl and how he as King should have intervened a long time ago, Charles knew that Rupert was as good for her as she was for him, and so did nothing.

_Why shouldn't he make a go of it with Margaery, if that is what he truly wants? He obviously adores the young lady! Frankly, Carl-Louis was a terrible snob, always harping about Valyrian bloodlines as if it meant anything any more when the House of Wittelsbach had been poor as church mice ever since losing the Bohemian throne. Rupert and Maurice - even Cousin Louey with her paintings had never been too proud to work for a living, such airs were nothing more than ridiculous! She was smart as a whip, resourceful, beautiful and sweet-natured. Rupert had done well for himself gaining such a beauty as his mistress._

Catherine had also noticed his discomfort and though he rather intimidated her, she knew Charles was infinitely fond of his cousin. She waited until James and Charles finally wandered off into town for a jaunt before tackling him about it.

"Rupert?" she pushed the door of the sitting room open and came in with a platter of fresh crusty bread spread with golden butter, cheese, preserved olives imported from the continent specially and thin sliced Serrano ham. The smell was delicious, especially that fresh-baked bread. There was a light russet ale brewed locally and much enjoyed by the King to wash it all down with. She set the platter on the table and urged him to take a break from the ledgers. "Won't you take a break, cousin?" she said shyly.

Rupert was just about to protest that he was fine and Catherine did not need to wait upon him, but in all honesty, he was ravenous, having not eaten since breakfast and somehow he sensed that she wanted to talk to him alone. _I hope this isn't anything to do with one of Charles's popsys, he thought to himself_

"Your Grace, you are too kind. You really do not need to wait upon me-" he started to say.

She stopped him with a sweet gentle smile. "Charles is right, you do work far too hard. We are on holiday now. Eat with me-"

He switched to Portuguese, her native tongue, which she much appreciated. Although she tried hard to talk English and assimilate into her husband's kingdom, she did still get homesick and longed for a taste of home occasionally. Rupert with his mastery of language used it with her but only rarely when they were alone.

 _He makes such an effort to put me at ease._ Even Charles, as genial and kind to her as he was had never learnt her language."There is so much to be done, and we have so little time left before hostilities start, I worry-"

."No one could ask any more of you than you already contribute," she obviously noticed the furrow between his dark brows as he concentrated, struggling with the light and the barely legible ledgers. "How long have you this headache for?" she asked with a bluntness that surprised him.

By the look of consternation on his face she knew that she had guessed right. "How-How did you guess?"

Catherine raised one hand to his forehead, noticing the slight temperature he was running. Her gentle touch was cool and soothing, "I know the signs of a head-pain. Cousin, you are not well."

"I am fine, your Grace. You need not worry about me." he promptly said. "Please don't say anything to Charles. I don't want to let him down and I don't want him to worry for no reason.

She looked unconvinced but she did not press him. If he wanted to confide in her, he would do. "Just don't over do things and go and see a doctor, promise me-"

* * *

The lads took their sojourn to Tunbridge Wells as licence to indulge ever more intense debauchery in an unfamiliar environment. The moment they arrived and moved into the actress’s lodging, they stepped their campaign of debauchery to new and more extreme levels. 

Rochester and Buckhurst were already three sheets to the wind and Tyrion Lannister was not too far behind them.

“Nothing like being on holiday, is there?”

“Aye, I intend being so sozzled that I’ll have claret running in my veins instead of blood!”

Rochester was frowning over some parchment, scribbling and crossing out frantically.

"What's this Johnny? Hard at work, are ye?" Buckhurst laughed.

There was a look on Rochester's face that anyone who had any knowledge of him knew meant trouble, “I’m writing the satire to end all satire. It’ll set the court at its ears.”

“What are ye going to call it?” Harry Savile asked, remembering all too well, that last time Rochester had debuted one of his latest satires at Court, it had resulted in a three month exile out in the country and they had only just got him back. As easy-going as Charles generally was, even he had his limits and Johnny was constantly pushing at them, like a naughty child testing their parent's boundaries.

His smile widened broadly, mischief twinkling in his eyes. “Tunbridge Wells.”

"God's nightgown!" groaned Harry, knowing from the gleam in his friend's eyes that he was going to be impossible to persuade away from the edge of social disaster once more if it caused offence, as he was all too capable of doing. "God help us all!" 

\----

“I have to admit I’m exhausted,” complained Ann Marshall after a couple of nights.

Nell had to agree, she wiped the sleep from her eyes, yawning widely. “I don’t think I’ve got a wink of sleep since we left London!”

Much as they adored the wits, actually living with them was proving rather exhausting. Being woken at three in the morning on a whim because Lannister and Rochester simply had to run a naked steeplechase down the street cheered on by their mates before yet another drunken debauched revel tended to pall after a while.

"It's not that we don't love them, naughty boys that they are, but you can have too much of a good thing, ye know?"

"Aye, but tell me how do we get rid of them now? The town is packed with courtiers all waiting to attend the royal family on holiday. There's not a room to be had for six miles."

Out of all the girls, Margaery was the one with the most pressing problem, namely the unaccountable behaviour of Charlie Buckhurst whilst they were boarding and preparing for the mini-season. 

She did not like the fact that he had his arm round her waist, nor the sly press of his hand against the curve of her breast. _Why is it that Rupert’s touch is to die for, but when Buckhurst or Joffrey touches me, I just feel slimy?_

She withdrew from him, silently making it clear that his attentions had gone too far. He completely ignored her subtle physical cues, holding her close. Buckhurst was sulking, a petulant look on his face as he slowly realised his attentions were not being received with the enthusiasm he would have liked. It had taken him long enough to get the hint. 

“Bucky, what are you doing?”

He breathed all over her, nearly asphyxiating her with alcohol fumes. She could almost feel them coating her skin. For a moment she was decidedly reminded of Joffrey and his drunken slobberings.

"C'mon, you would not cocktease me, would ye? not when we have such an understanding?" he slurred.

She had to put a stop to this before he got out of hand. she shoved him, freeing herself from his grip. _Ugh, what had she been thinking? Charlie Buckhurst was no better than Joffrey when all was said and done. She deserved better._ "Wait a minute, no we do not. I don't know what's got into you!"

"But I thought- "

She scowled, pushing firmly away, leaving him in no doubt that she did not want his attentions. "No! You don't take liberties, and you don't press your attentions when they aren't wanted!"

His face twisted in thwarted irritation as she left slamming the door behind her. He'd never expected that Maggie Tyrell would suddenly start playing hard to get.

He was a friend, once upon a time, she told herself feeling sad for the relationship which by necessity was going to have to change drastically, but now I don't think I want ever to be alone with him again. Charles Buckhurst simply could not be trusted.

"I don't know what has got into him lately!" Margaery stormed as she reached Nell's room searching for a refuge from Buckhurst's insinuations and wandering hands.

“I heard Bucky talking to the others when he thought that I was passed out.” Nell looked more serious than Margaery had ever seen her. 

Margaery didn’t like this at all. She was starting to realise that something was up with her former friend and she was going to have to deal with it before things got out of hand. She couldn’t allow him to take any more liberties with her. “What did he say?”

Nell gave her a look of concern. She sighed with a gust of air through her pursed lips.

“Please Nell, what do you know? I am aware that I’m not going to like it, whatever it is.”

“He’s obsessed with you,” Nell admitted, reluctancy plain in her every word, “He won’t rest until he’s made you one of his conquests. It’s a matter of pride to him.”

She thought that Buckhurst understood how it was and that anything that was between them was over. Now that she had the love of someone real and true. She wondered why she had wasted her time flirting with him. He didn’t love her, just an illusion of her that he was desperate to possess.

“How could he ever have thought that?” Margaery pulled at the lace of her sleeve.

“If I could give yer some advice, Maggie, I would say lock yer door and don’t open it until morning.”

Did she really think that Buckhurst would drunkenly attempt to force her? “You’re dead serious, aren’t you?”

Nell nodded. “The likes of him don’t like to be thwarted. Keep yourself safe, eh?”

Margaery could see that Nell was dead serious about the threat that Charlie Buckhurst posed to her. “I shall. Thank you for the warning."

She had to question whether any of the lads would come to her aid if he tried anything. The disturbing conclusion was that she did not think they would. 

She’d always thought of them as her friends, she’d always supported them, laughed at their jokes and socialised with them, but she did not fool herself here. She’d heard the way they treated the women who succumbed to them, the disparaging way they talked about their conquests, their cruel humiliations once they got bored, the way they would casually loan out their women between themselves as if they were nothing more than possessions. It was disgusting, if she were honest about it.

Their methods were a world away from Rupert’s courtly, steady wooing.

"I don’t feel safe in this house any more" Margaery confessed to her friends as they sat in the garden taking a short break from running lines. It was the only place where they could work undisturbed, the wits having taken over the rest of the rooms. “I can’t carry on like this.” Margaery said to Nell in the morning, “I cannot live in fear of my friends!”

“Isn’t there anyone you can get to help you?” Nell asked.

“I don’t know.”

“You want my advice? I would tell the Prince.”

“You think so?” Margaery was hesitant to drag him into this. She wanted to prove that she could handle a crisis and did not want to constantly rely on him to solve her problems, even though in her heart she knew that she only had to ask for him to come swiftly to her aid, no matter the situation and he would.

“I know so. I can’t imagine he would allow the situation to carry on the way it has.“ Nell insisted. "'Tis no weakness to ask for help, if you need it. You don't have to do everything alone."

* * *

Margaery and a couple of the girls went out into Tunbridge Wells to do a bit of shopping on their day off. She appreciated the time that they could spend bonding and getting to know one another. Although most of them were friends and they had mostly accepted her as part of the company, sometimes her double life at the theatre and at court made her feel like an outsider, never really fitting into one or the other.

Even Beck wasn’t being quite as spiky. Margaery doubted they were ever going to be great friends: they were too close rivals for that, but away from the pressure of work, Beck was a lot less combative and actually managed to speak civilly on occasion to her. Margaery was surprised to hear her sharp wit which she’d felt the rough edge of once too often directed towards someone else. Beck on the sly was actually very amusing in a tart, wonderfully bitchy way.

The ladies were just considering stopping for some refreshment when Beck’s sharp eyes spotted a tall imposing rather familiar figure walking towards them.

Margaery turned towards him in delight, genuinely pleased to see Rupert. She coud not help a smile spreading over her face at the sight of him.

She was drawn to him as if she was magnetised to him. Margaery could not describe how relieved and happy she was to see him. That tension she felt living in that house, fretting about Buckhurst dissipated away. _No matter where I am, as long as he is there, I always feel safe._

He raised his hat, his manners impeccable as always. “Ladies, what a pleasure to meet you all.”

“Lady Margaery.”

She couldn’t help but blush over the way he lingered over her hand.

The girls nudged each other and winked, noticing her pleasure in his company and her girlish blush.

“I was about to lunch alone, would you and Madam Nelly like to join me?” he said gallantly, "I would very much welcome the company." he gave Margaery a very significant glance which made her blush.

Nell grinned in delight, nudging her friend in excitement. “That would be right grand, it would yer Grace. Thank’ee!”

 

“She ain’t safe, your Grace.” Nell insisted over lunch. “It was all John Wilmot and I could do to stop Bucky attempting to reach her room.”

Rupert said nothing, but the tightening of his hand around his goblet told it's own tale.

"I didn't want to interfere, but things are getting out of hand. Forgive me, Maggie, but something needed to be said." 

“This is so wrong. Do you wish for me to have a discreet word with the boys? Make it clear that this behaviour is unacceptable?” he asked, visibly making an effort to remain calm.

Margaery was just about to protest but Nell got in there before she could open her mouth.

“Yes, ser, please do! I think it might be the only thing that makes Bucky actually listen.”

 

The wits were just rising in the late afternoon, nursing hangovers and starting to treat them with ‘the hair of the dog’ when there was a thunderous thump on the door.

“Go get that would ye, Lannister?” Rochester groaned, lazily opening one bloodshot blue eye.

“Oh, very funny!” Tyrion groaned, in no fit state to be answering the door to anyone.

“You’re less hungover than everyone else!” protested Harry Savile. “Come, Half-Man, don’t get the hump!”

* * *

Tyrion looked up at Rupert, literally towering over him, stern face dark as a thundercloud. _I might have known there was going to be trouble._

“Where is he?” the prince practically growled as soon as he got the door open, striding into the house without so much as a by-your-leave.

Tyrion realised that the prince had somehow found out about their drunken revels, but the main source of his annoyance was Buckhurst and his attempts to woo Margaery. _I had no idea things were so serious between her and the Prince._

“I wanted to speak to the rest of you anyway. Are you all here?”

"Aye, my lord, though not in the greatest of shapes I would say. 'Twas a heavy night for all."

“We’ve been summoned.” Tyrion intoned from the doorway.

Rochester yawned, wrinkling his nose. “Summoned? By who?”

"Take a wild guess."

* * *

Rupert stalked into the room, out of all patience with these insolent young whippersnappers. It was truly amazing how they practically snapped to attention as soon as they spotted him, his appearance putting the fear of God into them in the most effective way.

Rupert paced in front of them, taking the time to glare intimidatingly into their eyes as he passed. “I have been hearing that you gentlemen, and believe me I use the term very loosely, have moved in here with the ladies of the company. Is that correct?” 

“Your carousing, keeping them up at all hours and preventing them from doing their jobs to the best of their abilities. Is this or is this not true?”

The group all looked at each other, trying to pass the blame.

“I’d like to think that you would not impede his Majesty’s servants from serving him to the best of their capability? Or shall my cousin have to send the lot of you packing?” he gave them a tight, vaguely threatening smile, leaving no doubt in their minds that he meant everything that he'd said.

“I wish to have a private word with Lord Buckhurst. Where is he?" his sharp dark eyes scanned the line, looking for the offending wit.

They all let out a sigh of sheer relief that they were no longer the object of Rupert' considerable ire and trooped out chastened by the tongue-lashing he'd handed out. Bad luck for Buckhurst that he'd been singled out.

 

“Why is it that you are disturbing the peace of Lady Tyrell?” Rupert demanded, at his most imperious and commanding, as soon as the two men were left alone by the rest of the group.

Buckhurst was not inclined to be gracious, not under the scornful scrutiny of the older man who loomed over him. “What has it got to do with you?”

The Prince just gave him an implacable stare, looking down his distinguished long nose at the younger man in a manner which suggested he was not impressed by the answer he gave. “It has a great deal to do with me. Did you, or did you not attempt to enter her chamber last night?”

Buckhurst blinked in surprise, wrong-footed by the older man's demand, “How do you even know about that?”

One of the girls must have told him. Margaery probably ran straight to him, appealing for his aid. Buckhurst ground his teeth, but he didn’t dare oppose the Prince openly. Rupert was too formidable, even as he stood towering over Lord Buckhurst, anger barely down and set to simmer.

"Never you mind about how I know, suffice it to say that I do."

“It was just a bit of fun.” If he sounded like a sulky schoolboy, he didn’t care.

The Prince's eyes narrowed, extremely unimpressed, “You should not take advantage of her good nature by pressing the point.”

"It was just a harmless bit of flirting." Buckhurst protested. "Maggie knows I meant nothing by it, I know not why you are causing such a fuss."

"It is very much my business when the lady in question is forced to lock her door to keep you out."

"If I may say so, you seem to be very well informed about the goings-on in our lodgings?" Buckhurst ventured.

“The lady and I have an understanding. Is that clear enough for you?” Rupert told him in a dangerously quiet tone that assured Buckhurst that he meant business. There was a ruthless glint in the man’s eye that told him not to push his luck much further.

"An understanding?"

Rupert just raised an eyebrow, the supercilious line of his lip becoming quite pronounced.

 _So she was involved with him!_ He remembered the day they had met in St James’s Park and he had so jealously observed them together.

“I suggest you don’t test me, Lord Buckhurst. Take it from me, your attentions are not wanted and will cease forthwith, or I will want to know the reason why.”

Buckhurst had no doubt that he was bare minutes away from a thrashing.

“I trust I have made myself sufficiently clear, Lord Buckhurst? I would hate to have to repeat this conversation?”

"Aye, your Grace." he said with great reluctance.

The Prince looked him up and down before his mouth curled into that sardonic cynical smile, sharp as a sabre cut, "Good, I'm glad that's cleared up now."

* * *

Rupert decided to tackle Charles the next morning. The situation was intolerable, no wonder the girls complained. He didn’t want Margaery exposed to such a volatile and unsettled environment, it wasn’t good for her and he didn’t trust those wits one bit. 

Even though Margaery swore blind they were her friends and would do her no harm, Lord Buckhurst paid her a sight too much attention as far as he was concerned. Nelly was perfectly correct to bring it to his attention before the situation escalated.

“Would you object if Lady Tyrell moved into my apartments?”

Charles was surprised things had progressed so far. Was she still not pledged to Joffrey Baratheon as far as he knew? Rupert must have decided to finally make his move, and to hell with Carl-Louis and his petty vindictiveness. To be honest there was a part of him that couldn't help rooting for his cousin and the plucky young lady.

“If that’s what you desire? You know Catherine and I would be glad to see you happy, and we have plenty of room available?”

“Thank you, Charles. I appreciate it.”

* * *

Margaery told the girls she was moving out the next day.

“I’m sorry, but I really cannot tolerate it any more. It’s starting to affect my work, and I can’t have that.” she told them apologetically.

“So where are you going to board, then?” asked Peg, not hiding her curiosity. "Hart will do his nut, you know he likes for us all to board together.

Ann gave her a knowing smile, pleased to have been proven right about her colleague, “Haven’t you worked it out by now? You going to move in with him, aren’t you? The Prince.”

Margaery saw no need to deny it. Everyone in the theatre must have worked out what going on by now and to be honest she no longer cared about other's opinion. “Aye.”

“You didn’t sound surprised that Margaery is moving out to board with the Prince,” observed Ann Marshall.

“It’s been the cards from the beginning,” Nell said with a shrewd gleam in her eye, “He’s absolutely bats about her and she is utterly infatuated with him, has been from the beginning. D’ye remember he came to see her after her debut?”

"So she's his mistress? For real? God's bones, Maggie really did hit the jackpot, lucky bitch!" Peg pouted with more than a dash of envy.

Nell looked amused, "Ain't you girls noticed how she does not get ogled and hassled backstage like the rest of us? That's Rupert all over."

"Really?"

Aye, apparently he went to Killigrew a month into the season and made it crystal clear that she's out of bounds to other men."

"Wish I had a patron who'd do that for me, some of them are little buggers, but Killigrew is always on my case about 'aving to be nice to the punters!" sighed Ann with some longing.

Her friend smirked, “I have no doubt that Margaery is about to seal the deal.”

* * *

Margaery had worried whether things were going to be awkward when she moved into the royal house bearing in mind that she’d had that brief rumoured fling with Charles and people still speculated about her place in the king’s affections, but nothing was further than the truth. Charles had taken her hands in his, an earnest look on his dark handsome face. 

“Really I don’t want you to feel remotely awkward about anything. We can be adults about this, can’t we?”

She blinked, surprised by his relaxed laissez-faire attitude, though why she had been so startled she didn’t know why. Charles was as worldly a man as he was easy-going.

At least he wants to be friends. He’s given Rupert and me his blessing. What more could I ask?

“So you really don’t mind about Rupert and me?” She asked.

”I’ve never seen him look so happy as he is with you." Charles said with surprising honesty. "Honestly, Margaery, you’re so good for him. Catherine is pleased for you both as well-“ 

Margaery felt a tiny sting of guilt about the little queen. She was so sweet and lovely, even though she must have been hurt by Charles’s roving eye and constant wandering. Catherine would have been within her rights to resent Margaery and all of the other willing women who took her husband to their beds and flirted with him, but she had been nothing but kind. 

“Her Grace is nothing but kindness and goodness.”

Charles smiled. "I'm glad you said that as well... she wanted to come see you both herself. Catherine, dear come forth!"

Margaery was surprised to see Queen Catherine, modestly dressed and cloaked. She sank into a curtsey, but the little Queen waved her up with a sweet smile.

"We decided you and Catherine should have a day together," he said with a roguish twinkle in his eye. "Haven't had so much fun in ages!"

"Charles and his japes." she said shaking her head and looking amused. Her usually sallow face was flushed and quite pretty. Maybe she wasn't the dazzling beauty like Barbara Villiers or Cersei Lannister Baratheon, but in her own quiet way Catherine's kindness and good heart shone out through her face, making her almost beautiful. No wonder she inspired such fierce loyalty in Eve. 

"Your Grace, 'tis an honour." Margaery said, feeling a bit shy.

Catherine took both her hand in hers and looked Margaery intently in the eye. A small sweet smile spread over her face as if she was pleased by what she saw in Rupert's new love. "Charles is right, you are good for him. You love him, I see it in your face." she rose up on tip-toe and pressed her lips to her cheek. 

Margaery coloured a little with pleasure.

"I hope we can be friends, si? You are family now, is that not right Charles?"

Charles smiled at his wife the Queen's generous welcome. "Aye, Kate, that she is."

* * *

Everyone who was anyone wanted an invite to the royal party of the year, the weekend before they were due to return to the capital.

Margaery clung close to Rupert’s side, their costumes complementing each other. Her diaphanous silken drapes flattered her curvy slender figure and his shining breast plate and scarlet toga made him look remarkably distinguished and heroic.

“Mars and Venus walk amongst us.” murmured one courtier, admiring the couple.

“I think he’s really good for her. She seems to have so such confidence and radiance and he obviously adores her.”

The spectacular necklace round her slim pale throat and matching earbobs winking enticingly in the light were dazzling. Margaery looked magnificent, lit by some radiant inner glow, the pale gold of her silk gauze costume highlighting the warmth of her colouring and her creamy skin.

She circulated, greeting accquaintances and friends, enjoying herself after the triumph of the company during the season at Tunbridge Wells. Every night sold out and people had said such nice things about her voice and her roles. Things were really starting to look up for her at work.

Some of the courtiers had gathered, dancing gracefully on the green sward to the music of the King’s Strings led by Jonas Moncrieff who were playing the latest in elegant French and Italian dance rhythms. Everyone was wearing fabulous costumes mostly inspired by mythological themes although there were a couple of historical and fantastical costumes floating about and more than a few masks.

For catering, there were tables groaning with food, in the elegant buffet style which had been introduced from the Continent. Waiters and serving girls all in costumes to match circulated with trays, providing a constant supply of fine wine throughout the balmy evening.

Cersei eyed Margaery jealously taking in the dazzling wealth of her costume with the fabulous jewels taking pride of place.

"Maggie Tyrell is looking in fine form tonight. Belle of the ball, I'd say." she said with a grudging glance at the younger woman, who was circulating and smiling as she pressed the flesh and socialised.

"I thought Charles had thrown her over for another one of those actresses-" her delicate nose wrinkled in disgust. "That common little trull Nell Gywnne's warming his sheets at the moment." It was hard to work out which royal mistress was most jealous.

“Jemmy, we’d given you up for lost! Where have you been?” Cersei exclaimed, as she spotted the two delinquent young men. She drew back from her eldest son, wrinkling her nose. “Joffrey, have you been drinking? Already?”

"So what if I have?" he said, his face twisted in a belligerent scowl as he ungraciously greeted his mother. It was easy to see that he was in a foul mood and itching for a confrontation.

Jemmy gave an apologetic shuffle at Joff's rudeness to his mother, fidgeting with his robes. He somewhat lacked the presence and self-possession to carry off his robes, unlike his father who was enjoying himself immensely as Jove complete with gilded thunderbolt in hand, or the Duke of York who has come as Neptune and was waving a trident excitedly. Rupert was striding round in a blood-red toga and impressively gilded breastplate as Mars, the god of war. "He's been in a stinker of a mood since London. I can't speak to him at all."

She glanced at Joffrey, who was stalking round the party with a face like a stung bulldog, grabbing glasses of champagne and downing them carelessly. He looked very much as if he were spoiling for a fight, and didn't much care who it was with.

"He's got the hump about Lady Tyrell. I can't reason with him." Jemmy fretted.

"What has the jade done now?" Cersei sighed impatiently with a roll of her eyes.

"Joff owes some money, so he's keen to settle the deal and marry her but she's trying to wriggle out of it by the sounds of it, and now all the talk is that she's moved in here." Jemmy confided. "Joff's in a bit of a bind at the moment."

"-With the royal family?" Cersei nearly dropped her glass in surprise, amazed at what Jemmy had indiscreetly told her. _This scheming little bint was shameless!_ she seethed inwardly, annoyed by her failure to drive a wedge between her and the Prince.

"Greeted with open arms, apparently. Dad and Queen Catherine welcomed her, even gave her own room apparently." Jemmy was still rattling on, as garrulous as ever, getting stuck into the free wine with some enthusiasm.

Cersei gritted her teeth, riled by Margaery's cunning move. _How in God’s name has she managed to get them all onside so cleverly?_ "That scheming jade!"

* * *

Joffrey was fed up of hearing all the rumours and the scarcely hidden looks that the courtiers shot him. The lady in waiting’s whispers and pitying looks as they looked at him. His suspicions were at a high pitch, and he was determined that he was going to find out the truth about his recalcitrant fiancée and the prince.

She was here; he knew she was here with the King’s company flaunting herself shamelessly like the bold jade she was. She had made a fool of him for far too long. He was going to claim her, and put an end to this ridiculous flirtation with the Prince. _It’s more than about time I showed her who is master!_

“There you are!” he cried out as he spotted her, talking to a group of players and wits who were admiring her costume and spectacular jewels.

"Where have you been?" Joffrey demanded as he approached her slurring drunkenly, “Why are you avoiding me?”

Tyrion smirked, watching his hated nephew approach as he stomped around in an obvious bad mood. “Trouble in the ranks, darling. That’s the trouble with these royal parties. They do tend to let in the riff-raff.” 

“Don’t tell me, he’s here, isn’t he?” she sighed, weary of Joffrey and his temper tantrums. “Damn it, things were going so well!”

“His Majesty really ought to tighten the guest-list!” Rochester didn’t even try and lower his voice as he glared at him.

"Hey!"

“Are you talking to me?” Rochester said in his most irritatingly snooty voice looking down his long nose at Joffrey.“Run along Hill, grown ups are talking now.”

“How dare you call me a Hill, I am a true born Baratheon!” protested Joffrey, furious at Rochester’s barely hidden insult.

“If you say so.” Rochester murmured bitchily, turning from him as if bored and giving him the cut direct once more.

“I want my fiancee!” he scowled, dragging her away bodily from her friends.

Margaery suppressed a shudder at the miasma of stale alcohol emanating from his form. _For God’s sake, he’s pickled again!_ She thought with annoyance. _Can he not go two days without drinking himself into a stupor?_

How could he shame her like this, drag her away from her friends when the whole court was watching, waiting for the slightest hint of scandal to gloat? What was he thinking?

She felt ashamed to be linked with him; she could see the whispers and nudges of the other ladies all speculating and gossiping over his bizarre behaviour. She had been having such a good time here free from the pressures and cares of town and the need to keep up appearances, and now that she’d moved in with Rupert she felt closer to him than ever.

“Would it be possible to have a word with my fiancee? Or do you believe you are too good for me?”

Margaery looked round, feeling trapped. Rupert was currently nowhere in sight, he was probably with the King. She was going to have to deal with the situation herself.

“Very well, Joffrey. As long as you don’t make a scene, and we can talk civilly.”

* * *

As soon as he had dragged her away from her friends, he started his accusations once more. Margaery was in no mood for his whining and petulance.

"I don't know what you're talking about Joffrey?" she replied, hoping that he would have some decorum and not make much more of a scene. People were already starting to stare openly at them, sensing drama. _Why did Joffrey always have to spoil her night?_

Not a word about how gorgeous she looked in her costume, or how well she'd done at work with the performances she'd done. Joffrey just wanted to vent and complain she wasn't paying him enough attention!

"You've schemed to get yourself into the royal lodgings. " he grabbed her elbow, and Margaery twisted out of his grip, jabbing him with her sharp elbow."Do you expect me to be pleased with your disgraceful behaviour?"

She pinked in mortification, her face growing hot as Joffrey's shrill voice rose above the hubbub of the crowd drawing attention to them.

Sansa hovered close by, looking concerned for her friend.

"Margaery?"

"What do you bloody want?" Joffrey sneered, eyeing her up blatantly.

"I'm talking to my friend, not you, Lord Baratheon!" Sansa retorted. “Is Joffrey troubling you, Margaery?”

He turned on her, lashing out in his bad temper. "Stay out of this, you interfering bint. Think you're too good to talk to me, Lady Stark, because you've got the king on a shoestring, dangling after you?" he leaned forward, leering drunkenly. "I wouldn't think you're anything special, love: his Majesty will fuck anything with a pulse!"

Sansa's mouth opened in shock. The colour rose in her cheek as her fiery Tully temper was ignited. "How dare you, Lord Baratheon!"

Margaery felt it was best she stepped in before the situation descended into a full-out fight. "For God's sake! Must you insult my friends? Sansa, I'm just going to clear the air with Joffrey. Please, don't worry about me: I'll catch up with you later, I promise."

"Are you sure?"

Margaery‘s chin went up in determination. "This should have been done a long time ago, frankly."

* * *

"What the hell is wrong with you, Joffrey? Do you not know how to behave in public? Why do you have to insult my friends like that? You need to stop!" She snapped as soon as she could drag him away.

"Don't give me that!" Joffrey was not inclined to be discreet. "First you wear those gaudy gems round your throat and at your ears, shamelessly advertising-“

"Advertising what, Joffrey?" She answered him coldly. She wouldn't allow him to cast aspersions on her. She hadn't even done anything with Rupert, well not yet...

"I bet he gave you those gems. There's no way you could afford to buy those diamonds yourself." His voice seethed with jealousy. "Not on your wages from the theatre."

Her eyes narrowed as she seriously tried to restrain herself from losing her temper. "Stop it, Joffrey. Enough."

"Don't you like what I have to say?" he sneered, getting right in her face. "I'm your betrothed. How do you think it looks when you wear another man's gems in public?" 

She found that she didn't feel remotely guilty about wearing the gems. 

_Why should she? What had Joffrey ever given her? When did he ever look at her as if she was his entire world? When did he listen to a word she said?_

"Most people simply congratulated me on how good I looked and how lovely they were." She told with a cool dignity that provoked him further. “They were a present from a dear friend."

"You should have refused them!" he scowled.

"Why?"

Joffrey gaped as if astounded that she could not be bullied or cowed. He strode back towards Margaery, trying to intimidate her, but she held her ground, looking him right in the eye, almost daring him to lay hands on her in the midst of a lavish party, with royalty in attendance.

"You do realise that we're in public and everyone will see you manhandle me? I wouldn't, if I were you-" She let her threat hang in the air, tense and ready for battle, simmering violence banked down as she faced him with clenched fists.

“How people will not gossip if they see you dripping with his jewels? You court scandal, Margaery, and I won't have it."

She nearly laughed in Joffrey's hypocrisy. This from the man who tried to bully her into swiving him and his bosom pal Monmouth! He had the nerve to prate to her about scandal! "Evil to those who think evil of it." She retorted.

"You're not allowed to see him anymore." Joffrey announced rather high-handedly.

She had a job not to laugh at his pomposity. _They weren't even married yet! How dare he dictate to her who she could and couldn't see!_ she fumed. "Not allowed, Joffrey?" she said in her iciest tone of voice, her eyes narrowed. Her grip on her fan was so tight, it threatened to crack.

"Aye-" his chin jutted out belligerently like a child on the verge of a histrionic tantrum. She expected him to throw himself on the floor, to start kicking his heels and wailing.

"Am I meant to offend him to please you, Joffrey?" her voice was sharp enough to cut.

"You might have a care for my feelings!" Joffrey sulked, evidently feeling as if he were the injured party. His bottom lip pouted out like a spoilt child denied sweetmeats.

She was no fool; she'd seen the way he's ogled her best friend Sansa in front of her without a care for her feelings. She remembered him leering at her as he propositioned her to go to bed with him and Jemmy, how he tried to trap her and ruin her, so she would be forced to marry him. 

_As if she would!_

Margaery was angry now. "And you might have a care for mine!" 

Joffrey sneered at the thought, which amply showed how much he cared about her feelings.“If it had been just some stupid fling, a quick grope in an alcove, I would have said nothing,” Joffrey claimed, which was a statement so blatantly untrue that Margaery didn’t even hide the roll of her eyes, “but you persist in clinging to him! What can you see in that old man?”

"A hell of a lot more than I ever saw in you! There isn't even a contest between you!" She snapped back, aiming to hurt him.

His mouth gaped open in shock. "What? You have got to be japing with me!"

"You're just angry because I love him now." Frankly it felt liberating to say it at last.

"You love him?" Joffrey sneered. "What the fuck do you know about love? You're a trophy wife, nothing more."

His degrading scornful tone merely stoked her anger and strengthened her determination to get rid of him from her life.

"Trophy wife?" She glared at him, "-and you wonder why I didn't want you and fell in love with someone else? You have absolutely no idea of how to treat a woman, do you?"

"You, in love?” he sneered.

"Yes, I do love him. He's a great man. He's clever and passionate and witty. He cares for me so much; a hell of a lot more than you ever did-"

Joffrey’s mouth popped open in outrage, amazed that she would have the effrontery to berate him, "I was going to give you a title and my name, what more did you want?"

_He really didn't get it, did he? All this time and he thought he could treat her as he pleased. Well, she had definitely had enough!_

"I want a man who loves me for myself, warts and all. A man who desires me, a man who treats me with respect, as you never did. He's good to me, and he treats me like the human being you never did."

Joffrey was shocked at her open criticism. He stared at her, as if he couldn't believe that his fiancée, his wealthy high-born heiress, his done deal was actually turning on him and demanding more. 

“I don’t know how you dare say such things! I saw you at the park, practically on his lap, letting him nearly kiss you-“ he seethed and sputtered, getting worked up by the offending memory of her in the prince's embrace, "-his arms round your waist, sharing a loving cup with him. You might as well have a scarlet sign on your head declaring you his whore! Renly might have tolerated such loose behaviour from a wife- and we all know why- but I will not!"

_You frequent every whore house in London and you have the gall to accuse me of loose behaviour! What an utter hypocrite!_

"Why do you feel the need to constantly insult my friends, Joffrey?" she asked him, "Does it make you feel better?"

"You're blaming me for this?" He said incredulously, "When I saved your reputation from being ruined after your sham of a marriage to my Uncle Renly?"

"Even Renly cared for me as you never did, and do you know what? He actually wanted me to be happy! He cared that I had found someone to love me in the Prince and wished me well."

Joffrey sneered at the comparison, offended by being compared unfavourably with her ex, "You were married to the most shameless cock-sucking molly-boy in London-" his lip curled up in a sneer about Renly. “No wonder he let you do what you pleased!”

Margaery saw it all too clearly. Joffrey was jealous. That's what it had always been! He was jealous of Renly, of his charm, dark good looks and easy way of making friends, the fact that she'd never given him her affections, as she'd openly adored Renly. Why should she? He's never earned them!

"Please don't insult Lord Renly in my presence. He is still my friend and I won't put up with it." 

"Shame you're not still married to him then, aren't you?" Joffrey’s lip curled, thinking of his dandified uncle who was still inexplicably popular despite his disgrace.

"You're pathetic, Joffrey." she sighed, irritated with him and his unreasonable jealous rages. “If it isn’t Renly; it’s my friends or the Prince. Do you expect me to never speak to another male ever again?”

“And I have no doubt that Renly was never jealous of your friendships with other men? Probably took it up the arse from every sailor and bum-bandit in your precious Rupert's Navy." Joffrey leered unpleasantly. As he turned his malice to the Prince. "He was at sea for years, wasn't he? Your ancient lover? You should ask him about his exploits at sea, eh? I bet-" his voice lowered to an insidious hiss, "-he's had his fair share of tarse on a lonely night at sea." 

She flinched away from him in disgust, feeling polluted by the filth he was coming out with. She couldn't believe his insults towards Rupert, Joffrey must be crazed with jealousy to go so far. If anyone heard him say such derogatory things, the Prince would be well within his rights to demand a duel at once.

"They do say he was mighty close to his brother Maurice, the one who drowned. Mama says they used to share rooms and conquests in the war...makes you wonder, don't it?"

“Makes you wonder what?”

Joffrey just smirked.

"You are disgusting, Joffrey!" she snapped, not wanting to hear his foul insinuations about the brother that Rupert loved and missed so much even now. 

"And then there was your shameless flirtation with Buckhurst and Rochester. They all talk about it, Mulgrave and Scrope-" 

_Of course you'd believe those snivelling bastards instead of me! You and your wastrel friends abusing my name and treating me with no respect. You would just let them, for you have no regard for me!_

“And of course you believe those bastards over me, wouldn’t you?” she sneered.

"And now to make thing worse you're throwing yourself at a man way older than you, who just wants you as his wench on the side. You've no respect for me, and none for yourself!"

 _I cannot do this. I can't marry Joffrey Baratheon, for the title, the social status or even the money._

Suddenly she knew exactly what she had to do with a burst of clarity. I have to be free of him. I don't give a damn about the consequences. Not at any price will I stay with him for a moment longer. I don't think I knew just how much evil was inside him, like pus from a decaying wound.

"The worst mistake I ever made was allowing myself to be persuaded to accept your suit. That’s when I had no respect for myself. Not anymore. I’m done."

"Eh?" he stared at her in amazement, his mouth gaping open.

"I’m leaving you, Joffrey. The engagement is over!”

Joffrey was dumbfounded by her outburst. “What the dickens are you talking about? We’re done? You’re ending this? Have you lost your mind, Lady Tyrell?” 

Suddenly she felt light as air, relief coursing through her veins like a heady rush. “No, Lord Baratheon, I’ve finally seen the light about you and come back to my senses. Just in time…”

“You have to wed me. You’re pledged, you can’t wriggle out of it now, you faithless slut. You know I need that dowry.”

_That was all he damned well cared about, the bloody money. Well bugger him! She’d had it!_

"All you care about is my money, isn't it?" She snapped. "Well, find some other muggins of an heiress fresh from the country to pay your bills, I'm done!"

She pulled off his ring and took great satisfaction throwing it at his head. It ricocheted off his periwig falling on the floor.

The hubbub of the crowd died as they realised the drama they were just witnessing. She could see Jane Middleton, Cary Frazier and Betty Felton jostling to be first to get the details on the split.

"God's bones, did she just chuck his ring at his head?" she heard Lady Betty clearly say.

She raised her voice, making damned sure that everyone could hear her, aiming to publicly shame him. “I can’t marry you. I won’t do it to myself. I’m sorry, Joffrey, I just can’t.”

Joffrey made a grab for her. "You've lost your goddamn mind, Margaery-"

She pulled away from him, wrenching away from his grip, angered by his lack of remorse. "Do you think that I don't know what you did with those girls in Paris? Do you think I'm that much of a blind fool?" she hissed.

Joffrey blinked at the accusations, completely blindsided by them. "What girls? What are you dribbling about?"

She started to laugh; astonished that he would even attempt to deny it, when she'd seen physical proof of his abuse. She would never forget Mimi's broken and ruined features. "You don't even remember, do you? You don’t remember being banned from every salon and brothel in Paris, do ye?”

“How d’ye even-“ Joffrey sputtered, astounded she had found out about that. “You’ve been snooping on me!”

“You are a wicked vicious creature, and if you think I'm going to allow myself to marry a man who abuses and hurts women, you are very sadly mistaken!"


	15. Stay with Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rupert and Margaery take the final step in their relationship after she tells him that she'd ditched Joffrey for good

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been a long time in coming.

Margaery strode away from the ballroom, ignoring the hubbub of gossip from the other courtiers that followed in her wake.

Betty tried to intercept her, eager to get the scoop on the most spectacular public dumping in the history of the court, over-excited by the scandal which had just erupted in their midst, but Margaery did not even look at the woman as she walked straight past her.

She should have felt bad for dumping Joffrey, especially doing it so publicly, but she'd had enough of his tantrums and histrionics, his entitlement and lack of remorse.

_I am done with Joffrey and his bullshit. No more! Wild horses would not induce me to go back to him!_

There was a part of her that was shocked that she'd taken such a huge impulsive step, dumping Joffrey Baratheon so publicly at the ball, but most of all she felt well...utterly liberated. She just hadn't realised how much the engagement had been weighing on her for all these months, a heavy mill-stone of resentment and anger towards him and her father for insisting on the match.

_I'm free, I'm free! At last I'm free!_

* * *

**In the Garden**

Rupert was at the alcove, his face worried for her.

_I must tell him. He needs to know that I finally found the courage to do it, to break free!_

“Why was Joffrey making such a scene at the ball? I've just been told there was quite a scene-"

She looked up at him, trembling with anticipation. "We need to talk, Rupert."

\-----

She backed him into a leafy alcove, pushing him onto the stone bench. 

Rupert sank down, offering no resistance at all. She enjoyed the thought of asserting her will over him, that he was comfortable enough to let her and yet for such a dominant man he did not feel remotely diminished by relinquishing control to her. 

"Ser, I need you-" she whispered, making her way into his arms and seeking his comfort.

They kissed, their mouths meeting urgently at the promise that they would no longer have to hold back from their desires.

Eventually he drew back, his eyes searching her face."What happened with Joffrey? Talk to me, darling."

"I confronted him, at the ball just now. I told him it was over, that I was sick of him and the way he treated me." Margaery started to laugh with sheer relief, almost a sob. "I told that I knew exactly what he did with those poor women in Paris, and I wouldn't marry a man who was going to abuse me."

"You left him at last?" his hand stroked her back, reaching her nape and caressing her, cupping the back of her head in his large hand.

She nodded, leaning against the strength of his shoulder. "Yes, I threw my ring back at him." she admitted with a giddy gust of laughter, feeling wildly free. She leaned against his chest, hearing his heart thudding underneath her cheek.

"You were very brave, Maggie. Did he try and hurt you?" Rupert held her close, tenderly stroking her and soothing her, making her feel safe once more. "He must have been furious."

"He couldn't. I made sure to do it as publicly as possible."

"Good God!" he said, shaking his head. “You reckless, brave gorgeous girl!”

"Don't you understand what this means?" her hand slid into his toga, reaching his cock and wrapping round it's length. He groaned at her touch, his eyes fluttering shut at her touch. 

"Should we really be doing this here, love?"

"Come on, we've wanted this for so long. I just want to be close to you. Let me touch you as I've longed. Let me be yours tonight."

He'd held back from her for so long, wanting to wait until she was free of Joffrey and his demands but their longing was so strong. It was going to happen, tonight, she had known that deep inside almost from the beginning of the night when she had confronted Joffrey and voiced her dissatisfaction with him.

He looked her in the eye. "You're sure about this?"

She nodded. "Aye, Rupert. As sure as I have ever been."

"Please-" his voice was soft and urgent as his lips trailed over her cheek, lingering by her nape. "Meg, sweet Meg, stay with me tonight."

Margaery wanted nothing more. She was meant to be Joffrey's in the eyes of the world. Everyone was relying on her to make a glorious match and repair the damage to her reputation that divorcing Renly had caused. The Baratheons were a prestigious family and considering her reputation after the scandal of her first marriage to Renly she couldn't afford to blow it, the chance to make a great match with a great House- it would the sensible worldly option, but she no longer cared. 

_This was meant to be. Why should I fight it?_

"Yes, my lord-" she breathed, putting Joffrey and her unfortunate engagement from her mind completely.

* * *

She clung to him as he strode purposefully through the hall up the impressive marble staircase carrying her effortlessly, the awesome strength in his arms thrilling her immensely.

Charles was making his way up the stairs with a giggling scantily clad female who was distinctly not Cersei, Barbara or Queen Catherine.

“Coz!” Charles had a rather knowing smirk on his face as he saw them. He drank out of a bottle of sack, grinning madly as he spotted them. “Well-met! I see that great minds definitely do think alike, at least tonight!”

“Your Majesty.” Rupert was respectfully wary, seeking to shield Margaery from scrutiny but the king was too curious and quick. 

He grinned at Margaery, raising his bottle and toasting her. “Lady Tyrell, going to make an honest man of my coz, are ye?”

The woman with him giggled a little, twining herself round Charles as he encircled her tiny waist and pulled her close. Margaery suddenly recognised her infectious laugh. “Nell?”

“Shush, don’t tell anyone!” she looked over her shoulder at her friend with a cheeky wink. She was so flushed and pretty, full of life and joy. Ever since her first night at the theatre where the king had visited her with Rupert and they had flirted with each other, Margaery had known something had been going on. 

Margaery wondered how Hart felt about being replaced by a king. Perhaps that was why he’d been so quick to fall into Barbara’s bed recently.

“Well, I don’t expect to see you two ‘til tomorrow morning. Or should I make that the afternoon?” Charles said with an absolutely filthy laugh that made Margaery blush and Rupert raise his eyebrow in an expression that would have quelled most men, but didn’t work on a merry tipsy Charles one bit.

“There’s no need to look so unimpressed, Rupe, I’m just saying. You two are good together, you really are. This man-“ he put his arm round Rupert. “-is the best of men, but he works too damned hard! So, go make each happy!” he waved them away regally.

“How much have you drunk, Charles?” Rupert asked, giving his cousin a shrewd glance. “You’re going to have a devil of a hangover in the morning, you know?”

“Don’t you worry about me tonight, my man!” Charles laughed. “You think about yourself!”

* * *

He thrust the door of his bedroom open, sending the valet scurrying.

"Your Grace, I was just finishing-" he stuttered.

"The lady and I will be engaged in urgent business. Make sure we are not disturbed on pain of my extreme displeasure." She thrilled inwardly at the masterful commanding tone in his voice. Rupert was intent on her and meant business. 

"Yes, Sir!" the servant stoked up the fire and made himself scarce, shutting the door with great alacrity behind him.

She twined her arms round him as he moved towards the centre of the room. The hunger in his dark gaze was unmistakable as his mouth stretched into a frankly sinful smile. His hands moved down the silken curve of her back before cupping her bottom and pulling her close in a gesture of possession.

His rough hands ran up her long silken clad legs up towards her soft thighs, snagging slightly on the smooth fabric. "You're wearing the stockings with the silver vines-" he said with an unmistakable tone of delight in his voice. 

She knew he had a fondness for them: he’d insisted on buying most of Madam Marianne’s prized stock from her Paris delivery, never mind the outrageous price the couturienne had charged for them. When Margaery had mildly protested at him blowing a fortune on hosiery, he’d gruffly said “they were an investment.” It pleased and amused her how turned on he seemed to be by them and her legs in particular.

She raised the soft silk draperies of her costume displaying her fine legs in their embroidered hosiery to their advantage. "I thought it would please you." She sank down onto the boudoir chair by the dressing table, starting to withdraw the pins in her curly hair and letting them fall down in sweet disorder round her shoulders. She stretched a little to reach the pins, enjoying how he avidly took in every little jiggle of her breasts as she did so.

His fingertips traced along the intricate and delicate lines of silver thread, fascinated by how they accentuated the line of her long legs.

"They’re worth every shilling, these.” His accent, usually so distinctly English with barely a trace of his background thickened with lust for a moment.

She grinned at him, feeling a little bit cheeky, mimicking him a little for fun. “Well they seem to have an effect on you, ser.” Her eyeline slipped down to the impressive bulge pushing at the red fabric of his toga. She stretched out one leg, teasing him with the silk clad toes.

He rumbled with laughter, giving her a wink as he caught her ankle and guided it back down with a caress. “Less of your cheek now, lass.”

“Come worship me.” Margaery invited him, with a smile and a hot longing glance that told him how much she wanted him. He sunk to his knees in front of her, not needing to be bid twice.

“My love-“ he breathed so quietly, she nearly didn’t hear him.

He devoted himself to tracing the silver vines on her stockings with his mouth, lavishing kisses and ardent trails of his tongue to her nearly bare legs. 

She felt truly worshipped and desired in a way she had always wanted but never truly had.

He reached the soft tops of her thighs, pressing kisses round the tops of her stockings, gently nuzzling the rough silken curls.

Her legs fell open at once, welcoming and alluring him, displaying herself wantonly for his perusal. 

He gazed down at her slickened quim in rapt awe, gently reaching out to pet and stroke her with curious gentle fingertips. He sucked on his fingers one by one, savouring her taste for a moment before continuing his exploration of her body. 

She gave a soft moan at his touch, the calloused pads of his fingers teasing her wickedly. She needed more of this sweet teasing friction, him staring at her most intimate secrets as if she were a wonder of science he'd just discovered in his laboratory. 

His fingers- first one, then two- slipped in to the second knuckle, making her moan and babble. She panted and gasped, gripping onto the sides of the boudoir chair as her hips worked against the movement of his fingers.

"So very responsive..." he murmured, a dazed tender smile on his face, the dimple in his cheek coming out once more. She couldn’t help but stroke it a little. He kissed the tips of her fingers, a sweetly affectionate gesture one would never have expected from such a fierce proud warrior.

She looked up at him through her tangle of rumpled curls. Her hands fumbled as she struggled with the bows at the side of her gown with just how much she desired this.

"Take me to your bed, Rupert. Don’t make me wait." she murmured, once she’d shimmied the silk gown off completely. 

He didn't need further prompting, lifting her up with awesome strength and carrying her over to the large bed as if she hardly weighed anything at all. 

She lay before him looking up at him with an expectant smile. Gods, she wanted him so much right now! Her golden eyes were darkened with longing, like glowing embers as she stared up at him.

"My God!" his dark eyes were heavy-lidded, almost slumberous with his desire for her. "You must be an old soldier's dream come true. So beautiful-"

She looked up at him from under her lashes. "Do I please you, ser?"

"Infinitely, Maggie."

He knelt next to the bed, his hands skimming over her body, mapping her curves and delighting in the soft textures and sweet scent of her skin. There was no mistaking the awe on his face as he touched her, and she felt a sense of triumph, that she was able to reduce this strong proud warrior to speechlessness and admiration.

"You must have the most gorgeous breasts I have ever seen." he murmured, the sheer admiration and desire evident in his voice.

She knelt up on his bed, smiling at him as he loosened the buckle of his breastplate impatiently, eager to get naked with her, craving the touch of skin against skin. She wrapped her arms round him, pressing her soft breasts against his chest.

“I can’t help but be amused by how perfect you seem to find me.” She teased him, lifting her face up flirtatiously for him to kiss her once more.

“You are perfect; it’s not up for discussion.” He said gruffly.

He was still an impressive figure of a man, all broad shoulders and long athletic limbs. She gazed up at him, taking in the slabs of muscle at his chest, scars and marks from battles long fought. She longed to learn the stories behind them, trace them tenderly with her lips and tongue.

"I'm not what I was. I hope you don't feel-"

"Don't apologise!" she chided.

"You're not disappointed?"

She realised he was a little self-conscious with her, that he worried whether he was good enough for her. How could he doubt that she wanted him? When she'd brazenly let him slide his fingers inside her, back and forth, until she thought she was going to lose her mind and spend all over his fingers on that chair.

"I can't sleep for longing for you, ser, you must know that by now? How long have I been trying to persuade you to give me what I need?"

"We don't have to hold back now," she reminded him with a loving sensual smile. "I want to touch you too, Rupert. Please?" her hand cupped his bulge, her palm working against his hot length. He gently gripped her wrist, stopping her from squeezing him intimately.

"Maggie, my darling, have mercy. I'll spend like a schoolboy if you keep doing that."

 

She lay back on the pillows spreading her thighs wantonly, wanting him to see and admire her.

“Join me here, Rupert.” She smiled at him in invitation.

 

Her hand glided between her thighs, starting to tease and excite herself, enjoying the flare of lust and dark longing in his gaze. She felt glorious, powerful and beautiful and desirable as she had never felt before. “You know every time I do this at night, I can’t help but think about you. Wanting you to…”

“Margaery.” Rupert sounded almost pained, torn between his longing and the knowledge of the age gap between them. “You would tempt a saint.”

She looked him right in the eyes, wanting to demolish the last remnants of his barriers. “I know you wanted to wait, but I really don’t know if I can.”

He exhaled, and she knew that she had won the battle.

“I have to have you. Oh gods, I feel like I’m going mad.” His hands roamed over her body, and even though his hands were rough and calloused, sailor’s hands, he touched her with such tenderness and reverence she was infinitely moved.

Her hips moved upwards, encouraging him to touch her ever more intimately and deeply.

“I need your fingers inside me again. I want you to touch me. Oh god.” She clung to him, unashamed of her need now.

“Shush, my love, let me take care of you, now. Let me love you.”

He eased her thighs even more apart, brushing the pad of his thumb against her clit as two of his fingers slid into her again. She let out a deep groan of satisfaction. “Ah, yes!”

“Talk to me, Rupert; tell me how much you want this.” She’d always loved for him to talk to her, low and seductive, telling her all the wonderful depraved things he wanted to do to her. Ever since those sessions in his apartment before they had become intimate, where she’d teased him wickedly, encouraging him to tell her what he fantasised about them, how exactly he was going to swive her when the time came.

His low husky voice in her ear, against her skin, encouraging her to new heights of need. She felt as if she didn’t even need his touch, the dark urgency in his voice was enough to drive her to new unknown heights.

"That's it." he was murmuring in her ear as she moved under his knowing touch. "Move your hips like that. God, you're so lovely, so perfect, Meg. What did I ever do to deserve an angel like you?"

His fingers made a beckoning motion inside her, stroking that sweet spot inside her over and over again, increasing the pressure with small subtle motions of his fingers.

“Oh!” she breathed out, dazed by the intensity of the caress inside her. She’d die if he didn’t keep doing that to her.

She was falling off the precipice; she was flying and soaring, her pleasure rising like a wave that threatened to overwhelm her. Hazily, she wondered whether it was possible to go mad from a surfeit of want and pleasure.

She cried out over and over, beyond any sort of self-control. The pressure of his thumb against her warm slippery nub, his fingers stroking inside her, gently pushing her higher and higher.

“That’s it, love, come on. Keep going, I know you can, oh angel-“

She lay in his arms, coming down to earth after such a fierce passionate climax.

"How do you feel, angel?"

She gave him a sweet dreamy smile and pulled him close, wanting to feel his arms around her once more. “That was… I don’t even know what to say.”

“Shush, it’s fine.” He soothed her as he dipped a handkerchief in the ewer and cleaned her off. He dropped a kiss on her soft thighs briefly.

Her hand moved between them, wrapping round his prick and moving languorously upward, wanting to give him as much mind-blowing pleasure as she’d just received.

"Once we do this, things will never be the same. We can never go back." He struggled to say.

"I know," she said simply, climbing over him to straddle him and then guiding him inside her.

Once he started to slide inside her she realised exactly why he had taken such a long time to rouse her to a pitch of longing and desire. Gods, he really was in proportion! She thought as he pushed steadily inside her. She braced her knees on the mattress, giving herself leverage to take his thrusts, keeping him close.

She gasped as she fully took his length to the hilt, filling her deep and soothing an ache inside.

“Rupert?”

He shuddered and groaned underneath her as her inner muscles flexed around him. She ground her hips down on him, barely thrusting and moving her hips at all. His hands moved to her hips, lightly holding her steady as she straddled him, ready to ride him. It must have been taking every inch of hard-earned iron self-control not to wildly thrust into her as he so clearly wanted, but he lay, waiting for her signal. 

She loved him for ceding control to her, letting her go at her pace rather than his. She bent to kiss him, her breasts brushing against him with tantalising softness. “You’re so deep inside me.” She breathed into his ear, giving him a squeeze that made his eyes practically roll back into his head in bliss and started very slow and deeply to move.

He caught the rhythm she’d set, rolling his hips underneath her like the waves under a ship. He pushed himself up at last to a seated position holding her close as he got deeper inside her. The firelight gleamed on their naked sweat-drenched bodies as she kissed him, never breaking their rhythm.

She could see it that beautiful moment of clarity in his eyes as if he'd realised all the secrets of the world within her willing body. Margaery clung to him, feeling a surge of love so powerful it was like a drug. This was the man she longed for and needed. How could she have thought she could have been happy with anyone else?

* * *

He was looking at her from his side of the pillow his face relaxed and almost blissful. He smiled at her soft and tender, reaching out for a disordered curl and winding one round his finger to let it spring free 

"What are you thinking about?" She found herself asking, nuzzling close to him and using his broad shoulder as a pillow.

"I was thinking how very lucky I am, mein herz."

Margaery tried to sleep but she couldn't, having to content herself with watching him sleep, the surprisingly long dark fans of his lashes touching his cheeks. Her thoughts wouldn't let her rest, she tossed and turned with guilt and remembered pleasure.

_What am I going to do?_

_I can't regret sleeping with Rupert; it was everything I dreamt it would be. I want him more than ever and he really does want me back. He blew my mind tonight, I never thought it would be so perfect and I don't think I can give that up._

_But what do I do about Joffrey?_


	16. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rupert and Margaery are in a haze of love and desire now that they have taken that final step and become lovers. As Margaery falls ever deeper in love with her prince, the jilted Joffrey seethes at his rejection and poor Jemmy sees rather more of his uncle and his mistress than he ever wanted when he comes to her to persuade her to take Joffrey back.
> 
> Cersei plots when she finds out about Margaery's new lover, seething that her younger rival succeeded where she never could.

Joffrey

Joffrey’s noisy angry progress up the stairs was halted by one of the Prince’s servants. He recognised the livery and scowled at the man, who returned his glare with a maddening equanimity. He felt a surge of red-hot anger towards that arrogant bastard Prince Rupert who had casually stolen his prospective bride from him. However would he get his hands on that lovely Tyrell dowry now, with Drinkwater breathing down his neck? Damn her for wriggling out of her obligation, for losing her mind and throwing out accusations! He seethed as he remembered how she shamed him publicly by accusing him of violence towards women and worse throwing his emerald and diamond engagement ring at his head as if it were nothing but a cheap piece of trash!

“I’m afraid, ser, that you’ll have to go back downstairs to the celebration as this floor is out of bounds to you.” The footman intoned, his arms folded over his chest, completely ignoring the cries of pleasure which were coming from at least two of the rooms.

Joffrey couldn’t believe he was being put in his place- by a servant, no less! His suspicions flared, as he was brought up short by the unyielding henchman. 

“What? What do you mean this part of the house is out of bounds?” he demanded, his face twisted with rage and suspicion. He couldn't believe that he would be thwarted - by a flunky! What was the world coming to?

“Tis as I have said, my Lord,” said the servant, utterly unimpressed by his protests, barely managing not to roll his eyes, "This floor is for the royal family only.”

“So you know who I am?” Joffrey’s chin jutted out, trying his hardest to pull some sort of rank.

It did not work. The footman fixed a look of long-suffering patience onto his poker face as if Joffrey was nothing more than a troublesome gnat, "Yes, I am perfectly aware, Lord Baratheon, and yet I say to you that this section is out of bounds. Now, if you would kindly make your way downstairs to the public section of the party, please-"

Joffrey was not having it in the slightest. _Was this idiot going to take me for a fool? Make me go back downstairs, tail between my legs like some behorned cuckold?_ The mere thought of her and the Prince cavorting behind closed doors, swiving each other like sailors on shore leave had him gritting his teeth, eaten up with acid jealousy, "My fiancée is up there! I know she is, cavorting with another man. Surely you must see-"

The servant merely raised one maddening eyebrow, unimpressed by his accusations, unwilling to bend one iota in Joffrey's favour. "I'm afraid I don't, ser." That very polite insolence was like a red rag to a maddened auroch. 

“Damn you! You have to let me past!” he tried to rush the servant in a desperate dash and was manhandled back down the stairs for his pains.

"I think it best that you do not create a scene, seeing as you are not meant to be here?" the footman intoned as he was forcibly ejected from the house. 

Try as he might , he could not regain re-entrance to the party of the year. Seething, as the doors remained closed to him and the guards on the door refused to bend despite his craven pleas, Joffrey retreated to lick his wounds.

* * *

Later on that night...

Rupert cracked one eye open, sensing that Margaery was still wide awake next to him and thrumming with nervous energy, like a tensed string just plucked. "I can hear you thinking and fretting, Margaery, from over here.” 

She snuggled closer to him, letting one arm wrap round her waist as the tension started to drain from her, comforted by his strength and his size. “I’m sorry, I know it’s foolish but I can’t help-“

“It’s Joffrey, isn’t it? You fret about him.” His voice was surprisingly gentle and compassionate as he wrapped his arms fully around her, keeping her close. He stroked her silky curls, tangling his fingers in them, soothing her. _How safe, how happy I feel in his arms!_

"Am I a bad person, Rupert?" she asked, stricken by her conscience, looking up at him and seeking reassurance.

"Why?" he frowned sleepily.

Her fingers stroked down the broad muscled length of his back, enjoying the feel of his sleek lines, “For dumping Joffrey so publicly? We barely waited until we fell into bed. What will people say?”

He sat up and frowned in the dying firelight, "Do you regret what happened here tonight, Maggie? Because-"

"No, of course not! How could you ever think that?" She assured him with haste, quietly appalled with herself that she had made him believe that she did not want this as much as he did. That was not what was going on at all! She was mad for him, she knew that now. This was everything she'd wanted for a long time, the fulfillment of her longing for the dashing prince who'd near enough swept her off her feet like some fairy-tale and stolen her heart. "I wanted you, ser. I chose you. Remember that." she kissed him, wanting to show how deeply she felt about him and how she craved that connection between them.

She felt him stroke away her rumpled curls off her face with infinite tenderness. "You worry too much about what the world thinks of you, ma vie. You can't think like that. No one can live like that."

She sighed, and he lifted her chin to face his in the dim light. 

"You did what you had to do. Being with him was destroying you, it was stifling you. Best that you found out now that you are incompatible, rather than endure a life of marital misery with him. If he could not treat you as you deserve, as the princess you are, then it is his own damned fault! 

She knew that Rupert was talking sense and that she had made her decision long ago. She should not doubt herself now.

“Go to sleep, love. What reason is there about fretting about what you cans’t not change right now? Be assured, Schatzi, that he will not lay a finger on you as long as I have breath in my body." He said and promptly went back to sleep with all the alacrity of a soldier accustomed to snatching rest at the slightest notice.

* * *

Next morning

The next morning found the couple curled up in bed, fast asleep and entwined closely. Will Legge opened the door ready to greet his master and start the day, but the couple did not even stir. He thought about coming back later and leaving the love-birds but he knew Rupert was a bit of a stickler for starting the day early, even though he was meant to be on holiday.

"Sire? My lord?" he said, gently shaking him awake.

Rupert reluctantly stirred, yawning widely as he woke. "What is it-" he said muzzily, "Surely it can't be morning already?"

"Aye ser, and a fine one it is already." he undrew the curtain flooding the room with sunlight and picking up the clothing hastily discarded onto the floor. He busied himself folding it neatly, laying out new outfits for the day ahead like the attentive servant he was. "Shall I inform the cook to ready breakfast for you and Lady Tyrell?"

"Tis early, we'll leave her to sleep a bit." Rupert smiled down at a dozing Margaery with a soft tender smile, brushing a stray ringlet from her face with the delicacy of something most treasured.

Margaery opened her eyes and gave him a sweet smile of welcome, pulling the bed clothes around her, "It's fine, ser, I'm awake now. Hello, Will." she smiled at him with a great charm.

"Very good to see you, my lady. I'll go see about that breakfast, now?"

* * *

Well, this was a turn up or the books! thought Will, as he hurried from the room. If he was not mistaken, then Rupert and Margaery had very clearly taken the final step and become lovers fully. Well, he couldn't say that he was surprised by this turn of events, the lady spent a great deal of time at Spring Gardens and the Prince had been keeping a very close eye on her since the beginning when she appealed to him for help.

Still, he couldn't help but wonder what her family would make of this. He remembered her brother Garlan's worry and concern that afternoon that he had discovered them dallying in the Prince's apartment, kissing and fondling like lovestruck youths. He'd also heard rumours from the city that Mace disliked Rupert with an irrational intensity and had insulted him unforgivably when he had visited them at their London residence. Carl Louis was bound to be furious that Rupert had ignored his strictures and chosen to be with Margaery despite her birth and her scandalous profession, but in truth Rupert had never been inclined to obey his elder brother. He was determined to live his life as he pleased, free from the control of the Elector. 

_I cannot help but wish him the best. I hope that things end better than with Frances Bard, that's all. Rupert deserves a woman to love him for who he really is._

* * *

"I really do have to go." Rupert eyed his lover regretfully, his eyes lingering on the glimpses of pale tempting flesh revealed by the robe she was precariously wearing as she sat on the desk, distracting him. "All that work will not wait." he murmured, even though he could not tear his eyes away from her, wrapped in his banyan like the most delectable and seductive present wreathed in Chinese silk.

She gave him an inviting smile full of mischief. "Do you have to work right away, ser?" the all too innocent lilt of her voice gave away her intentions.

He slipped her loose butter soft silk gown from her pale shoulders, pressing ardent kisses to her neck and collarbone. She shivered from the touch of his lips on her flesh, wanting and needing more.

The overwhelming desire to yield to him came over her, she did not care whether she was being wanton and provocative, she knew that he would not judge her for her desires, for his own matched hers. She had to get past that rigid iron discipline, that sense of duty that denied himself what he most wanted.

Rupert was more than half persuaded, despite himself. He eyed her tempting body with an undeniable hunger. "You look so unbelievably gorgeous right now."

She took pleasure in the low rough sound of awe in his voice as he saw the youthful rounded curves of her breasts. Her back arched as she flaunted her body for him, knowing only too well the potent effect she had on him. The unabashed appreciation he had for her and her body was enough to make her feel like a goddess.

She arched her back and reclined back onto the desk, scattering the paperwork onto the floor, letting her full breasts fill his large shapely hands. 

"You like that, my sweet?" He asked brushing his thumbs over and over again on the hardened peaks of her nipples which responded eagerly to his touches, his bare skin hot against hers. He stroked her with infinite tenderness, his palms learning and memorising her soft silken curves. He lingered appreciatively over her body, her uptilted breasts seemed to fascinate him, down her slender torso, his hand skimming over the curve of her stomach, before delving in between her soft thighs.

"My God, you really do want me, don't you?” there was a boyish wonder in his voice that she found rather endearing as well as arousing. Her strong proud warrior utterly undone by the sight of her in all her feminine glory.

She was begging shamelessly, squirming against his fingers like an utter wanton and she didn't care. She felt as if she would die if he didn't touch her, keep caressing her with those wonderful shapely hands of his. "Please, please, oh god, yes-"

What a pleasure to do this with an experienced man who knew exactly what he was doing. Such a difference to her frustrating fumblings with sweet sexually-confused Renly, or her passionate but quick kisses with the likes of Rochester, or Sedley. Rupert was focused on her and her sexual pleasure, and it was a wonderful glorious thing.

She gripped the edge of the desk, delighting in the grip of his large capable hands at her hips, revelling in his strength, she could feel his cock at the inside of her thigh, hard and hot, his fingers slid between them, teasing and playing with her, stoking her excitement and desire ever higher. “Touch yourself." his voice was ragged. "Show me what you like, sweetheart. You know I'd do anything…"

Her fingers slid over his, encouraging him and guiding him to give her the touches that she needed.

"Like this?" He pressed a little firmer, moving his fingertips in a circular motion that drove her wild.

The pleased smile at her groan of pleasure, the smoulder of passion and lust in his gaze as he touched her ignited her desire for him ever fiercer. "Aye, ser, don't stop. Please, I need-"

He licked his fingers, savouring the taste of her, "You taste of heaven-" he murmured with unashamed reverence.

She kissed him once more, sharing the taste of herself on his lips.

She tilted her hips, letting the head of his cock brush her wet slick entrance, teasing them both with the sweet frustration of anticipation. He ground his hips against hers, making her cling on to him, needing more of that delicious friction.

"You beautiful tease." His voice darkened to a growl.

"Please ser, can't you feel how much I want you?" She murmured intimately against the line of his jaw, sliding to kiss him deeply once more, craving the faint salt tang of his skin. She loved the slide of his tongue in her mouth, ruthlessly stoking her desire, mimicking subtly the rhythm of what he so fervently wanted to do with her.

He bent his head, suckling her and wringing from her low throaty gasps of pleasure. “I don’t know if I can hold back.” He managed to say, "Schatzi, you will utterly undo me. Darling, if we do this it's going to be hard and fast. I don't know if I can be gentle-" he warned her, a dark glint in his eye.

Her hand curled round his cock, feeling it grow longer and thicker in her palm. She looked him right in the eye, daring him to take her right there, like a ravaging conqueror, “I don’t want you to be.”

He stood between her parted thighs, looking down at her with a devouring hunger. She raised her knees and crossed them at the small of his back, encouraging him to enter her deeper. Her hand went down to guide him as he slid into her welcoming willing body.

"Like a madness in my blood… I want you so much." He groaned into the silken mass of her hair as she helplessly tightened around him, wringing an exquisite pleasure from him. He breathed the sweet jasmine and rose scent that reminded him of her so much.

The couple exchanged hot devouring passionate kisses. Margaery perched up on the desk, her legs wrapped round him as he thrust into her over and over again. My God, it has never been like this! Rupert effortlessly blew her mind in the bedroom, it was like an addiction she never wanted to give up.

One hand braced on the desk for leverage as he used every inch of his strength to pound into her, building in speed and intensity. She was so excited and slick after teasing herself under his watchful loving eyes that he slid right in. She pushed back against him hungrily, as eager as he for pleasure, crying out as he thrust into her.

They were so bound up in each other that neither of them realised that Will had accidentally left the door unlocked or heard their guest enter the room.

* * *

Jemmy

Jemmy couldn't believe he had been roped into talking to Joffrey's rebellious fiancee, but what could he do? Joffrey was his childhood friend and he was bound to help him, no matter how much he did not want to get involved, if truth be told.

What on earth was he meant to say to her anyway? As far as he could see she had dumped him quite clearly- and in public, no less! Not exactly pulling her punches or mincing her words. If you asked him, Joffrey should cut his losses and look for another heiress, one that would be slightly less trouble than the Tyrell maid, who had shown more than enough mind of her own. She might be a celebrated beauty, but she frankly was a bit of a handful and in all honesty she had never really shown a great deal of enthusiasm for the match.

“Lady Margaery, I thought I’d- Oh!” Jemmy started to say, trailing off to an embarrassed silence. His dark eyes were wide as he took in the scene. His mouth fell open at the sight of his very stern and strict Uncle Rupert quite obviously about to have the most almighty bonk with the gorgeous Margaery Tyrell. Her spread all over his desk, near enough naked, her shapely curves on display. Damn, Rupert was a lucky devil!

She let out a squeak of absolute mortification, burying her face on her lover’s broad bare shoulder.

Rupert turned and made a noise of frustration and annoyance. He had little patience with Jemmy at the best of times and this was the last thing that he wanted.

“Gottverdammt, are we to have no privacy here? OUT!” he barked.

Jemmy squeaked in fright, horrified and desperately awkward at the situation. “Uncle Rupe! I um... didn’t know you were here, I’ll go!"

"Why the hell are you here? D'ye barge into ladies' rooms uninvited all the time, Jemmy?"

Jemmy quailed, faced with Rupert at his most exasperated and fierce. "I was going to talk to Margaery about Joff… I know he was out of order last night, he was drunk as a skunk, he didn't know what he was saying …" he started to say, desperately running his words together in a panicked rush. 

Margaery could not believe he was naïve enough to not know exactly what was going on, "Does this really look like a time that I want to speak about Joffrey, Jemmy?"

“Jemmy, for the love of god, you are embarrassing the lady. Can you please, please come back later?” he gritted out.

Jemmy did not need to be told twice. He fled the scene, handsome face scarlet with mortification.

* * *

Cersei

Cersei was livid at the fact that Joffrey had been so publicly dumped at the ball. Who did that impertinent jade think she was, rejecting her Joffrey, throwing away a match she clearly didn't deserve? 

Flaunting her illicit gems from the prince as if she was proud of herself? Moving in with the Royal family at Tunbridge Wells? 

Even though she was a long term mistress of the king, she had never been invited to lodge with Charles during their summer sojourn at the races. Sometimes she wondered whether Charles was merely too indolent to do anything about actually getting rid of her, for an easy life he would just carry on with their arrangement even though the passion had burnt out a long time ago.

Instead she was forced to take rooms and wait for the king to make time to see her.

 

She saw a dejected Jemmy looking for some breakfast and decided to accost him to find out what the hell was going on. “Jemmy, dear?”

He whipped round, looking remarkably guilty. “Lady Casterley.” He toed the ground, gulping as his cheeks flushed. “I…,” he faltered, blanching pale at the thought of revealing what he knew.

“Is there something wrong, dear?” Cersei's voice was saccharine sweet.

He gulped and fidgeted, scratching the back of his neck under his cravat, his strength of mind no match for hers. “Um, I couldn’t say, Lady Casterley, I really must go-“ he stuttered.

She wasn't about to spare him, not when her darling Joffrey's matrimonial prospects were at stake. “You know Joffrey thinks of you as a brother.” Cersei leant on his conscience. “He trusts you.”

Jemmy cracked under the strain, as she knew full well he would. “The Prince and Lady Margaery, I saw them!”

Cersei couldn't quite believe her ears. "What?"

“I didn’t mean to walk in on them, I was hoping that I would be able to see her early in the morning and persuade her to give Joff another chance, but-“ by this point Jemmy was babbling.

"But what, Jemmy dear?"

He bit his full lower lip, the picture of awkwardness. "Erm…" his big dark eyes pleaded with not to make him say it loud , but Cersei was a Lannister, and they were not known for their mercy, "you must know, him and her… the entire court knows, she is his mistress!" He burst out.

Cersei was unprepared for the wave of sheer fury and envy that washed over her at the news. Even though she'd suspected that something was going on between the two of them, ever since she had seen her hanging off Rupert's arm while he and the king talked of Naval policy the confirmation of her suspicions filled her with a hot scalding rage. The thought that he had rejected her because of an unguarded slip of the tongue while they were kissing all those years ago in Oxford, the horror and disgust on his handsome face as he dumped her on the floor mid-kiss, refusing to go anywhere near her ever afterwards, his disapproval of her relationship with the king, his cousin. The fact that he knew her deepest darkest secret and had kept it, holding over her head, waiting for the moment to blow her world apart. Even more shaming, he was one of the best kissers she ever had. For years, she'd desired him, wanting to take back that moment, wishing they had swived when they had the chance. Thinking about him every time she wanted that sweet 'little death', however shaming it was that he had rejected her. The only man she'd ever truly desired except for Jaime…

To think that bold slattern had got him as easy as snapping her fingers, and now she was making a fool of her darling son with him of all people! Life was too cruel!

"Those two must be absolutely insatiable." The thought of it made Cersei gnash her teeth at the mere thought of it.

“Well, she looked embarrassed than ashamed, I would say."

Margaery Tyrell was shameless beyond belief! Well, what can you expect of a girl of so little breeding? She sneered.

She wondered how Mace Tyrell was taking her open rebellion against his arrangements. I have no doubt he didn’t even know, the ridiculous fat booby! Maybe…

A cunning smirk played across her mouth as she considered her next move. 

Maybe some charitable soul should make it their business to inform the Lord of Highgarden of his daughter’s folly. After all, she was only having a care for the girl’s reputation, which was murky enough as it was. Gods knew Prince Rupert ought to have known better, he was old enough to be her father, was he not?

One day the chit would thank her for stopping a disastrous affair that would harm her Joffrey’s prospects. After all, was he not giving her a chance to be a duchess once more?


	17. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei's campaign to cause trouble for the lovers continues as she carries out her threat. She is going to make Margaery very sorry that she dared to jilt her Joffrey.
> 
> When Mace finds out about Margaery's decision to be with Rupert, he is very angry and confronts her, leading to a breach with House Tyrell.
> 
>  
> 
> As Margaery takes control of her destiny, must she choose between the love of her life and her family?

**Back in London**

Cersei made it her business to accost Mace Tyrell as soon as the court arrived back in the capital. It was vital to her plans that she should be the first one to inform him about the scandalous goings on of his daughter and how the bold little jade had scandalously flouted all social mores by falling into bed with the Prince so boldly while they were away. 

_Let's see how easily you get out of this one, Margaery,_ she thought with more than a hint of vindictiveness. 

"My Lord, how pleasant to catch up with you! Do you have a moment?" she ladled on oodles of charm, taking Mace's arm with a cosy familiarity and steering him away from his path.

He gave her a somewhat distrustful glance, well aware that she had never had much patience with anyone from their family and wondering why she was making such efforts to speak to him now. _What the hell did she want?_

Cersei insisted on a discreet table at Chatelin's and such was her influence and the force of her personality that a small corner table was found for them, by the discreet and efficient wait-staff.

"So what is this all about?" Mace asked, eyeing her suspicious and wary of dealing with her and her rather fearsome reputation. There was a reason that he made an effort to steer well clear of the kind of Court intrigues she revelled in. She might be one of the wealthy and influential House of Lannister, well established as one of Charles's mistresses and mother of two royal children, but in truth he had to admit that he did not much like the lady.

Once they were sat down, she insisted on paying for his order, which made him even more wary. _Lady Casterley wants something, of that I am sure. But what?_

She tilted her head to look at him. He almost felt as if there was a pitying edge to her voice as she spoke. "My dear Lord Tyrell, I am not quite sure of how to break this to you..." She took a sip of her wine, keeping him on tenterhooks.

"What is it, my lady? Pray, do not keep me in suspense?"

She got ready to lob a bombshell into his life with a overly sweet false smile, enjoying herself rather too well, "Well, it's Margaery and the Prince..." she started, acting the reluctant informant to the hilt.

"Is he still sniffing round her?" Mace frowned. "I thought I made it perfectly clear that she was betrothed to your lad, and I didn't approve of their relationship in the slightest?"

_Oh, this was going to be entertaining!_

"You really have no idea, do you? She gloated, smugly smirking, "She dumped my son at Tunbridge Wells. Publicly, for everyone at court to gawk and gossip about them. That nosy bint Betty Felton is having a field day! The next thing I hear she's shacked up with Prince Rupert in the royal lodgings, with the full approval of Charles, naturally."

Mace nearly choked on his wine in shock, he dabbed at the spill on his overly fussy cravat, "So you are convinced that they..."

"Ah yes, well I did not like to say, but poor Jemmy tried to convince her to do her duty by my poor Joffrey and found them in flagrante, shall we say? It was a most awkward situation for the lad, all he wanted was to do the right thing by his friend and there she was, rubbing her shameless behaviour in his face. I wondered how much you knew of what she was up to when your back was turned?" 

Mace's face set into determined lines, which pleased Cersei immensely. Everything was going exactly to plan!

"Rest assured, Lady Casterley, that I will do everything in my power to make things right. I cannot believe my daughter would be so much of a fool to throw away such a smart match. Let me talk to her."

* * *

**The Tyrell town house**

Margaery had just got back from a musicale at the Ravensbourne’s with Sansa and Arya. They’d said goodbye at the door and made arrangements to meet at Chatelin’s for lunch with Robb Stark and his Iron-born friend, the handsome roguish one who worked in Prince Rupert’s office when she saw her father waiting up for her with a grim expression on his face. 

Margaery instinctively knew there was going to be some trouble. She knew that stubborn pompous look on her father’s face far too well.“Father?” she said brightly.

Her father was not to be distracted, "I’d like to see you in my study. Immediately, Margaery-“

She followed him in, wondering what this was all about. Normally he let her get on with her life, albeit with a lot of nagging about their position at court and in society, but tonight he looked genuinely angry.

 

“Father? What is this all about?” she said warily hovering by the door.

“Sit-“

Margaery started to be very concerned about her father's manner towards her. Her father was never so abrupt and harsh. What on earth had brought this on?

“Would you like to explain this?” he pushed a casket of letters over the table at her, looking at her with what she could only describe as disgust. She glanced and recognised them. A flare of anger ripped through her. How dare he, going through her private correspondence? Judging her or her relationship with Rupert, treating her as if it was something sordid and wrong, as if she should be ashamed of herself for giving her heart soul and body to the man she loved.

“This is mine! What do you think you’re-“ she exclaimed, starting to get very angry.

“So you admit it, you shameless hussy!”

She was taken aback at that, “Shameless, what?”

Mace was too angry to register he had stepped over the mark. “Writing obscene and shameless love-letters to a prince when you’re engaged to Joffrey Baratheon. This is a disgrace!"

_There was nothing obscene about our letters,_ thought Margaery and you had no right to read what was private between Rupert and I.

Her father was still ranting, his blood well and truly up, "What the hell were you thinking, Margaery? You are engaged to Lord Baratheon and well you know it!”

“Our engagement is at an end.” She said coldly. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard of it, seeing as folk love to tattle of my doings.”

Her father puffed up with rage, infuriated by her cool reasonable tone. “What ridiculousness is this? You refuse to marry Joffrey on a whim?”

Her eyes narrowed in determination as she stood her ground against her suddenly domineering father, he was not going to intimidate her in a hurry, not when she had done nothing wrong! “I certainly do, and ‘tis no whim. I will not marry him.”

Mace looked absolutely flabbergasted by her rebellion. He gaped, as if he couldn’t believe his darling girl, his rosebud and the pride of his house would defy him and leave Joffrey so publicly. “Have you lost your wits completely, girl?”

“Not at all.” She looked at her father cool and composed, unmoved by his intemperate ranting. Mace’s fury broke over her like waves on a shore. She let him get on with it, venting his rage.

“Well, I’ll not have it! You made a promise to the Baratheon lad-“ he harrumphed. 

She was stung by the sheer injustice of that. She had done nothing of the sort! “On the contrary, you made the promise, my lord.”

Mace was furious at her defiance. “You’ll go back to Joffrey and beg his forgiveness for your lack of judgment. Perhaps if he is merciful, he might take you back, and you need not lose the title. All is not quite in vain."

_Take me back? Beg his forgiveness?_ Margaery could think of nothing worse. "I don’t want Joffrey. I never did. You knew that and you tried to guilt-trip me into accepting his hand."

”You thought that stopping your allowance was bad enough but I see I’m going to have to take sterner measures." he chuntered, obviously getting more and more worked up at the thought that she had purposely disobeyed him and dallied with Rupert, that arrogant bastard.

"What?"

"If you don’t cease this relationship with the Prince immediately, I will disown you completely. You'll have nothing. Not even the name of Tyrell."

"Why do you object to him so much? He is a good decent man, of gentle birth. He accepts me as I am."

“You whore yourself out to this man, and for what? He won’t marry you, he told us straight. Apparently, our family is not good enough for his! And why should he commit to you when you throw yourself at him with no dignity?”

"He loves me, but that is something you'd ne'er understand. All I am to you is a claim, an opportunity to advance the great House of Tyrell. God forbid I should ever want anything else!"

"I am your father and you owe me your obedience!" Mace shouted, growing red in the face. "Gods know that any other man would have refused to support you after you deserted a duke through your own wilful-"

"Do you know why I left Renly in the first place?" she asked bitterly, her voice rising in anger over his.

_Damn his eyes! Damn him for blaming her for this mess. All she had wanted was a man to love her. Now she had found him and her father was intent on ruining everything and insulting her in the bargain. Why did she even have to endure this?_

"Sheer willfulness, no doubt." he harrumphed.

The truth burst out of her dammed up for too long. "Renly was having an affair. Did you know that?" An affair with my brother, though you refuse to see it.

"So? Why didn't you do as other duchesses do and ignore it? Take a discreet lover on the side? D'ye think there's a single lord here at court who remains faithful to his wife? Don't be a romantic little goose, Margaery!"

She shouldn't have been so hurt and surprised that he could be so callous, but her father never failed to surprise her. _Does he not give a damn about me at all? Am I nothing but a claim to him?_

_He's crossed the line. I will not tolerate this situation a moment longer._ Margaery knew exactly what she had to do in a burst of clarity. Pippa had warned her a long time what the consequences of forging her own path could be and the price she would have to pay, but she'd never dreamed things would go this far.

“Know this, Lord Tyrell. I will never forgive you for calling me a whore, and I won't stay in this house to be insulted.” the cool ice in her voice let him know that she was serious.

"Margaery, I was a bit hasty! I didn't mean..." Her father stammered, realising she was in deadly earnest. 

She swept out of the room with her head held high, ignoring his ham-fisted apologies. “Maybe one day you’ll realise how you have wronged me and the prince. He is an honorable man and deserves not your scorn.”

“Where are you going? Margaery?” he bellowed. “Get back here!”

* * *

Margaery was too upset and angry to answer him. She stormed upstairs, nearly knocking her maid over.

“Start packing, I’ll not stay in this damned house a moment longer!” she fought the urge to burst into tears of rage. Every time she thought of what her father had said to her, she wanted to punch something, preferably his face. 

There’s no way on earth I’m going to meekly go back to Joffrey. If he wants to disinherit me, then let him!

She heard her father thumping up the stairs and banging on her door but she refused to open up. _Damn his eyes, she'd had as much as she could take!_

“Margaery! Margaery! Go and talk to your sister, Garlan, she’s lost her mind, I tell you!”

She heard her brother through the door and for one moment she thought he was going to side with her father and attempt to talk her round and out of her folly, but Garlan surprised her by his next words.

“Father, leave her. Have you not done damage enough tonight?”

"But I..." sputtered Mace, at a loss for words. "She defied me to my face. She is determined to spread her legs for the prince and she doesn't give a damn about her reputation or ours."

“How could you call my sister a whore? Father, you go too far.” Garlan rebuked firmly. "Don't you understand, Father? She loves this man. She adores him and he loves and cares for her. Did you know he gave her all his worldly jewels? That apparently they are vowed to one another? That he asked his brother, the Elector, to let them wed and Carl Louis was the one who refused to even consider it?"

Mace was taken aback by that, this he certainly had never dreamed of, "He truly **did** want to wed her...?"

" Please, Father, don't make her choose between him and us, because I greatly fear that right now she would without a shadow of a doubt choose him- and what's more, neither Leonette or I would blame her."

"Give her space, father, leave her be. Perhaps in the morning her temper might have cooled and she might find a way to forgive you for what you called her."

* * *

**The Stark Residence**

Sansa and Arya were surprised when Margaery arrived on their doorstep, accompanied by a mass of trunks. Her eyes were pink and her cheeks were still damp from the tears she had shed in the carriage on the way here.

“What is all this?” Arya said in bemusement. "Margaery?"

“I’m so sorry to do this but I can’t stay at home, not anymore.”

“Why what’s happened? Maggie, are you weeping? What’s going on?”

She sniffed, cuffing the track of her tears away. “He found out. Someone told him about the Prince and I. He was absolutely hopping with rage, angrier than I have ever seen him. He insisted I leave him and beg Joffrey to take me back or he’d disinherit me.”

"He chucked you out?" Arya asked, wide-eyed at the prospect.

Margaery's chin went up proudly. "I left before he could, though in truth it was a close-run thing."

Sansa took charge of the situation, seeing Margaery was on the verge of breaking down. However defiant and angry she was about her father's attitude to her, the Tyrells were a close knit bunch and a rift with them must be affecting her deeply to have made her take such drastic measures.

“Arya, darling, could you send a message to the Admiralty office? Make sure you mark it ‘Urgent’.” Sansa took the exhausted girl into her arms. “Hey, it’s alright. I’ve got you-“

* * *

The Admiralty Office, Greenwich

Arya ran to the Admiralty office herself. The lights were all still on, even Theon was still working away at his desk, rubbing his eyes over a pile of requisition forms.

“Hey, trouble, what are you doing here?” he said, noticing her presence.

“I need to speak to the Prince urgently. Can I see him?”

He frowned. “He’s in an important war council meeting with Lord Sandwich, the Duke of York and Lord Abermarle.”

“Please, it’s super-important.”

Theon opened the door and cleared his throat. The lords didn’t even notice at first, engrossed in discussing strategies for constraining the Dutch and stopping them from making any more progress up the Medway. Lord Abermarle was pushing some models across a map which was representing the channel and the Thames.

"- the Blue Squadron will guard our flank to the left hand side and we'll have the White- that's you Rupert and your boys pounding them from the right. You're always best at attack-" the Duke of York was saying. "We must secure the defences on the Medway and divert them from any attempts to access the Thames."

Abermarle's plain honest face looked appalled at the thought of them being so bold as to invade, but they all knew just how vulnerable that section was. Rupert and James had been inspecting them and writing ever more frustrated reports to gain funding for repairs and extra munitions, but Parliament had bickered and refused to release the funds. "D'ye think they would really dare?-"

"Aye, I certainly do! Any admiral worth his salt would take advantage; I would, in a flash! Unless we take the scrap to them, they'll be sailing up the Thames as if they damn well own it. It cannot happen! It must not happen!" Rupert turned impatiently to Theon, noticing him stood by his door at last after venting his rather pessimistic opinion of their opponent's strategy, “Yes, what is it, Greyjoy?”

“Sire, I have a message for you, marked urgent.”

Rupert rubbed his eyes. “We’re rather busy here, is it important?”

Theon remembered Arya’s words – it’s super important and persisted. If he was not mistaken the prince was fond of Margaery Tyrell and some emergency had just cropped up.

“Aye, your Grace I believe you’ll want to be informed of this.” Theon passed him the scrawled note. Rupert broke the seal and scanned the paper several times.

“She’s at the Stark residence, is she?” was all he said. The Duke of York’s head went up at the remark.

“Arya Stark came with this message right now.”

The great man hesitated as if deciding which course of action to take. “Gentlemen, I’m sorry but we’re going to have to call this session to a halt. Something has just cropped up which I need to deal with straight away." 

The men looked dubiously at each other, startled by the abrupt end to their important meeting.

“I’ll come with you, Rupe.” James, Duke of York said, backing his cousin fully, "Family emergency, you understand? Meeting adjourned. Send the minutes to the Palace and we'll take it from here."

 

The carriage sped along the road back to the Stark’s residence. The Prince was silent as they rode there, his face grim with thought.

“What are you going to do once you see Lady Tyrell, Your Grace?” Arya asked. He was definitely planning something, she could tell. There was a determined glint in his dark eyes that boded ill for Mace Tyrell and anyone who’d dare oppose him.

“Something I should have had the stones to do a long time since, little ‘un.”

* * *

As soon as Arya and the Prince entered the Stark house, he headed straight for her, waving off Septa Mordane, Jeyne and Sansa’s courtesies.

“Tell me where she is, Lady Stark?” he said instantly.

Sansa spotted the worry on his face and forgave his brusqueness in a crisis. Arya had told her as soon as they'd got home that he'd instantly postponed an important Naval meeting to comfort his love in her distress, “She’s in the Rose parlour, your Grace. She’s very upset, ser-“

“Thank you for your care of her, Lady Stark. You and Arya are good friends to her. To both of us. I appreciate it.”

 

“Tell me what happened, darling,”

Margaery looked up, her face lighting up at the sound of his voice. She rushed into his arms, pressing close and feeling safe for the first time in many a while. 

“Oh Rupert.” her sobs were muffled as she pressed her face against the velvet of his coat. "It's all been so horrible."

“Shush, mein schatz, I am here, Here for you. Arya ran to the Admiralty Office and told me you needed me.” He held her tight, his voice calming and soothing.

"She's a good friend." Margaery sniffed, cuffing away some tears. She had no doubt her nose and eyes were bright pink but she didn't care. She was here with Rupert, she'd taken the plunge and left her family.

"Aye, a true and brave friend to us both." he stroked her hair, comforting her with his touch. "What happened to you, angel?"

“My father read our letters. He demanded to know what was going on between us.”

His brow furrowed as he frowned. "I see."

“He knew I’d ditched Joffrey and he was furious.” Margaery sniffed, getting her emotions under control. "I think someone warned him and put things in the worst possible light. He was incensed. I couldn't reason with him. I lost my temper and stormed from the house." she admitted. "The things he called me, because I refused to go back to Joffrey like a good little obedient girl, I couldn't tolerate it."

“Why is he so keen for you to marry Baratheon anyway?” Rupert said. “Surely he can see how unhappy Joffrey makes you? How utterly unsuited he is to you?”

"He refuses to believe it," She sighed, “He owns, or has a claim to, a great deal of territory bordering ours, and my father is so ambitious he wants his descendants to own most of southern England.” she knew her role within House Tyrrell, and how they were all meant to pull together for the advancement of their House. But she was so desperate to be loved just once, heart and soul for who she was that she would risk it. 

“Is that all you are to him? A claim?” For all Rupert’s blunt brusque words, he had cut to the heart of the matter as direct and clean as a sabre thrust in the heat of battle.

“Aye, my lord.” She felt so weary and miserable all of a sudden that she just wanted to weep. She would not cry in front of him, she wouldn't!

She felt his thumbs gently brushing the tears from her cheeks and then he was kissing her so gently and tenderly she almost cried afresh.

He held her close, gently enfolding her in his arms, murmuring low words of loving solace, "What's this? Darling, please do not weep. I cannot bear to see you so unhappy." his deep comforting voice consoled her, making her feel safe for the first time in days.

"Why can't he understand that I just want be loved? For the first time in a long time, I am happy and adored and safe. He's meant to be my father, why does he want me to be miserable with Joffrey?" Despite her best efforts, she couldn't help but let out a sob. 

"Come home, angel. Let me keep you safe. Please? I cannot bear the thought of your father giving you such a hard time because of us? Does he not care a jot for your happiness?" 

"But Rupert, I thought we were going to wait till after the skirmish with the Dutch Fleet was over? I know you are going to be busy-" she looked up at him, her eyes bright.

"Don't fret about that, darling. You know that you are what's most important to me, do you not? We'll make it work, I promise."

* * *

Spring Gardens, a few days later

"You and your brisk walks, ser." she told him with a teasing smile. Rupert had been insistent that she come with him on a drive to the outskirts of town, bordered by countryside and far away from the bustle of London.

"Ah, but this one has a purpose. Come along Maggie, we mustn't be late!" He smiled, looking revitalised and years younger, his dark eyes shining with a youthful excitement.

They got into the carriage. She could sense that he was in a state of almost boyish excitement. Rupert could barely keep still, his knee bouncing in anticipation.

"Here we are! Your new house, right by the river. I leant on the lawyers a little to finalise the transaction, so you could move in as soon as possible."

"This is mine?" Margaery was astounded by his generosity. This was a fabulous house, so large light and airy. The thought that had gone into the decoration and furnishing was amazing. It was like a mini-paradise right by the river in Hammersmith. A huge garden with space for the dogs to roam, a sundial and fountain, a bench just right for two people to sit in a shaded alcove and gain a little privacy.

"Every last bit of it. All yours, Margaery." He handed her deeds to the house. “I purchased the house outright.”

She was speechless, staring at him in silence. Her hands were trembling so hard that she thought she was about to drop the deeds on the floor.

"You do like it, don't you? You know if there's anything you don't like, I can have it changed in an instant." He said with a tinge of anxiety. She realized that it was important to him that she was happy with their new home.

"It’s really such a lot, the carriage and six, the jewels and now this house." she said in awe. “Really, your Grace you have been so good to me, I know not how to ever repay-“

“It is not a question of repayment.” He said instantly, a hint of pride in his abrupt voice. “All I want- all I have ever wanted is for you to be happy, liebchen.”

She bit her lip to stop it trembling. his generosity and care of her was hard to accept. How this man, this brash imperious man, a man who half the world talked of in awe and feared- how he loved her. She fervently wished that she would always remain worthy of his love.

"It's so much- this is all so overwhelming. I know not how to thank you your grace-"

“No more than you deserve, Margaery.” He said. “I said I would help and provide for you and I have and will for as long as you require.” he opened his arms to her and she gladly went into them.

"I adore you, sweet girl, more than you'll ever know." he murmured, his lips finding her again and again. She responded to him, not caring who saw them.

She knew this was a crucial moment. If she accepted the house there was no doubt their relationship had gone to another more intimate level. She might as well tell the world that she was his mistress and be done with it. _Am I ready to take the final plunge? Am I ready to be his?_

The decision was made. _He is a great man, and I'm proud, yes! proud to be his!_

“Thank you, my lord." she said with a bright sunny smile, 'Tis very kind of you. Now let’s have a look round our new home.”

* * *

The Exchange

Margaery was doing some shopping for the new house on the Exchange with Nell and Peg Hughes, talking excitedly about things between themselves when they ran into Leonette, Garlan and Alerie who were coming the other way.

Nell sensed the tension in her friend as they approached and gave her hand a reassuring little squeeze, showing her silent support. Margaery appreciated it immensely, even though she knew her mother and Garlan were not at fault for Mace's offensive outburst, it would be a while before she could feel positively about any of her family, she was so hurt by her father's accusations.

"Maggie? 

There was a part of her that wanted - as cold as it was - to simply walk away from her, but she couldn't. She missed her mother so much and didn't want her to worry about her now that she'd left the house. She wouldn't back down and meekly return home though, a line in the sand had been drawn.

"Can we talk, please? I know you are upset; Garlan told us everything once Willas and I returned from Highgarden."

Garlan earnestly nodded, "I told him he had gone too far. He should not have saaid that. I think Lady Casterley has had a word in his ear. Leonette tells me the court has been buzzing about her annoyance over your jilting Joffrey."

She wanted nothing better than to sink into her mother's comforting embrace, but she knew she had to stand her ground. "Mama, I'm sorry, but I couldn't be with Joffrey, not after what I know about his violent exploits with women. All Rupert did was try and help when I begged him to help me. I never meant to fall head over heels in love, but I am and I cannot give him up."

"You truly do love this man, don't you?" Leonette asked in a wondering voice, amazed by the fact the fact Margaery had fallen for a prince and it was all true.

"Aye, I do. He came to me right away. I'm living with him now and it's better than it's ever been."

Her mother's smile was resigned, yet sad. "So you will not return to us?"

She shook her head, "After the way father talked to me? No, I can't, I'm sorry."

The Tyrell House

Mace had never seen his wife so angry with him for some time, she was such a calm good-natured soul, but he quailed as he was forced to tell her that their daughter had left their house under a cloud, angrily vowing that she wanted nothing to do with any of them. Alerie had always been fond of the lass and had quietly supported her despite her more outrageous actions. 

“What do you mean she stormed out, Mace?”

He knew his wife well enough to know that she would not take the news very well. Apart from the fact that she actually seemed to favour the Prince in his suit, Margaery was her favourite, and always had been. 

It did not help that his mother was with her, backing her up and glaring at him as if she couldn’t believe she had given birth to such a dense son. Privately he cursed the Prince for this whole messy state of affairs. _Damn and blast, how was this mess my fault?_

He would have thought that calling him a pervert would have made it quite clear how he felt about his pursuit of his daughter, but the infuriating man had taken no notice of his wishes and courted her anyway, presumably seducing her and sweeping her off her feet. “Well, darling, I just said that her behaviour with the Prince was unacceptable and she should go back to Joffrey and beg him to forgive her folly and take her back –“

“That’s not quite what was said, Mace and well you know it.” His mother said, not exactly being very helpful.

"Why would my darling daughter leave our house and nearly refuse to acknowledge me in the street? Why did she point-blank refuse to return home?" Alerie asked, genuinely hurt by the breakdown in her perfect family. He hated to upset his wife, but he could not endure that man! Surely she had to understand that. He hadn't meant to insult Margaery so thoroughly, he'd just been so angry at the thought of that man's hands all over his little princess. 

"I admit I may have lost my temper." he said, cowed by the sheer disapproval on their faces. "I may have said some things that I now regret-"

Olenna couldn't wait to twist the knife and make things worse, "Well, I'm not surprised the girl's in a snit, being called a whore by her own father will do that to a person!"

Alerie turned to her husband, utterly appalled at the depths to which he'd sunk. "You did what! No wonder she could barely look me in the eye. How could you?"

"I didnt mean to-" he tried to insist, but she was having none of it. She frowned, worry creasing her brow, “It’s obvious that she was unhappy with the Baratheon boy for some time. Garlan told us she had feelings for him and she was so desperate for us to like him when he came round and you just insulted him, like a fool! Did you see how heartbroken the poor lass when he left the house? It took all our effort to persuade him not to complain to the king about how you treated him. Can you imagine if Charles took his side and dismissed Garlan and Leonette because of your lack of tact and foolery? ”

Grand-mere Olenna agreed, “We should have seen it, but we didn’t because we refused to see it. Renly might have been a duke, but it is plain to see that that he was not right for her, and that Joffrey was no better. The things I have heard about him 'twould make your hair curl!”

"Wait a second, how the hell is this all my fault?" Mace protested, feeling at a disadvantage.

“You’re the one who drove her away because of your daft ambition, Mace.” Olenna retorted.

“He’s no good for her. For the Gods’s sake, he’s too old for her. He’s my age. What is he doing chasing my blasted daughter?” he protested, feeling like he was rapidly losing ground.

“I don’t know why you object to him so violently. He’s been perfectly honest and upfront to you about his intentions towards her-“ Alerie said as reasonably as she could.

“Aye, he wants to make her his mistress!” Mace jeered. The mere thought of the two of them together made him want to gnash his teeth.

Alerie dropped her forehead into her palms and exhaled through her clenched teeth, as if she was losing all patience with him and the entire situation. “Mace, has it ever occurred to you that she’ll probably move in with him anyway, and never speak to any of us again?"

"I did it for her own good. One day she will understand why I had to be so severe." he blustered, hating to see the disappointment on his wife's face.

“You'd better make this right, Mace." Alerie poked him hard in the chest, a scowl on her face, "I will not lose my daughter because of your stupid temper and pride.”

Olenna hmmphed but he knew his mother’s cues too well. 

“I have no idea why you’re on his side, Alerie-“ grumbled Mace, disconcerted that his wife was routing him so thoroughly. Added to the fact that he was feeling guilty for how things played out with the girl in the first place and now his wife was blaming him for everything!

"As usual, you haven't thought it through. Prince Rupert is close to his Majesty and family to him." Olenna scolded him. Charles knows that he owes Rupert a great debt and he feels the same. He approves of this relationship. If we were smart we would use this situation to benefit ourselves." 

"Don't you think it's a bit mercenary, using Margaery's romance to benefit our House?" Alerie looked rather dubious about her mother in law's reasoning. 

Olenna was having none of it. "You encouraged the girl to wed Baratheon to regain the title, how is this any different?"


	18. The Love Nest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rupert wants to give Margaery some security and make a binding commitment to her, even if Carl-Louis would not approve of their deepening relationship. But the fairy-tale is under threat as Rupert waits for the order to go to war.
> 
> Sansa, Arya and Jeyne come to visit the lovers in their new idyll.
> 
> Meanwhile Joffrey visits the theatre and causes problems for Margaery, forcing her to deal with him once and for all.

Margaery found that she and Rupert were blissfully happy together now that they had finally taken the plunge and fallen in love. Margaery wondered why on earth she had waited for so long. The prince adored her and spared no expense to give all her heart desired. He spent time with her, even though she knew that with the advent of war with the Dutch, he was extremely busy at the Admiralty Office.

"You are important to me too, and I want you to be happy." he said firmly and that was that as far as he was concerned.

* * *

Hammersmith, early morning

Rupert and Margaery were slowly awakening on a sleepy Sunday, enjoying each other's company and the warmth of their bodies. She felt his arms tighten around her and the tender press of his lips on her forehead and felt contented and safe, still in that haze of love they were both revelling in since she had moved into the new house.

"Morning, darling," she murmured, still sleepy, rubbing her eyes and stretching enticingly. "You were a wee bit restless last night. Is everything alright?"

Rupert frowned a bit, his dark eyes serious. He obviously had been giving whatever it was some thought, "Schatzi, there's something I wanted to discuss with you."

This got Margaery's attention. She propped herself up, looking at him with care and concern. "What is it, darling?"

He took a deep breath, willing himself to speak and possibly disperse their tranquil idyll, "Maggie, you know the Fleet will be sailing soon on this ridiculous war with the Dutch?"

"Aye, to be honest, ser, well, I was trying not to think of it." She gave him a sweet persuasive smile, "we've been so happy here." Living here in this wonderful house, with him, having a measure of independence and being with the man she adored was everything she dreamed it would be. For the first time in a long time, she was truly happy.

He smiled briefly at her, caressing her soft cheek with great fondness. "I know, angel. It's has been truly wonderful being with you, 'tis everything I hoped it would be."

"Why are you so brooding, then ser?" she gazed up at him, her honey gold eyes appealing, teasing him out of his serious mood, relaxed and happy in his presence.

"We need to consider the future, especially if I am going to war once more," he said with reluctance, "Maggie, sweetheart, I know 'tis not a pleasant subject-"

Margaery stared at him, unwilling to even think of such a thing, trying to lightly brush off the storm-clouds but Rupert was quietly insistent, determined on his course of action and his duty. The thought of this had obviously been bothering him or a long time.

"One never knows what is going to happen, and we have to be prepared for every eventuality. If anything happens-"

She simply could not bear to think of it, after all this time. To find such bliss together, the true love of her life and then lose it. "I cannot bear to think of it. Oh, Rupert-"

He noticed the stricken look on her face and sought to comfort her, "Oh liebchen, I never meant to hurt or distress you. I just-" he looked her in the eye, revealing something that he would not have done to anyone else, the proud warrior made oddly vulnerable by his love for her, "You are my heart and my life. I could not go to war knowing that you were not provided for and safe, that I had left you at the mercy of Joffrey or your father, for I sincerely doubt that we have heard the last of them."

"Rupert, I can work, you mustn't think you have to provide for me." she started to say. "- and I am done with my family. They can no longer force me to marry Joffrey. The betrothal is void. You have already done so much for me."

"I do this for you because I want to, because you are worth it all. I only wish I could do more." Rupert insisted. "In fact-" he took her hand tenderly, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand, a tender little gesture she treasured, "-there is something that I would dearly love and would give my heart and soul much ease."

"What?" she looked up at him.

"I know that Carl- Louis would not approve of a union between us, but something private - between ourselves- so you would be protected and legally covered, if anything, were to happen to me. I am a working man, a soldier. I would say I am relatively comfortably off, not fabulously wealthy, but all I have is yours. This would make it official- or as official as I can make it."

"Something private?"

"A ceremony in a chapel, just ourselves, a priest and a few witnesses." he sighed a little, "-in truth, 'tis not the way I would have liked to do this. I wanted to propose properly with roses and candlelight-"

"Didn't I once tell you i did not need that, ser?" she teased softly, "I meant what I said, Rupert. I want to be with you, any way we can. As long as we are together."

His care of her was admirable, considering that his brother Carl-Louis would not even countenance accepting her as his wife, he still wanted to do the right thing by her, as much as he could in the circumstances, "- but nothing will happen to you, ser?" 

"God willing, I will return to your side, but I have to be practical. Rather that than fail in my duty to you. You will be safe, I promise you."

* * *

Sansa, Jeyne and Arya were making their way to Margaery and Rupert’s new house in Hammersmith. Sansa was still a little nervous about socialising with the Prince as the carriage sped towards the house, but Arya didn’t seem to be fazed. For some reason she and the Prince had hit it off and they were firm friends, despite the differences in their ages. She seemed to be always dropping into his Spring Gardens apartments, returning laden with piles of ever more esoteric books about Military History, Science and European languages. Sansa would also never truly get used to the familiar way she addressed the rather stern and outwardly fearsome prince, bantering and quipping with him, as if he didn't terrify the life out of grown men, but Rupert seemed to enjoy her cheek.

Arya laughed when she mentioned it."Once you get to know him, he's fine, really he is, Sansa," she said, blithely dismissing her fretting, "he's so generous and kind to me, you have no idea. Bless him, he was so disappointed when he couldn't get me a scholarship to Cambridge-"

Sansa couldn't believe it, staggered by her casual mention of his generosity, "He did what?"

She knew that Arya was smart and chafed under the feminine restrictions of their society. Being a lady in waiting, even to a mistress as kind and understanding as Myrcella, was not exactly fulfilling, but she had no idea that Rupert, great man as he was, had even noticed. 

Arya was still talking at length, "-he's always going on about how I should make more of myself and stretch my intellectual horizons. As he says, a bright lass like me is absolutely wasted as a lady in waiting! And he's not that scary once you get to know and like him, he's actually a bit of a pussycat, to be honest. All that grumpy bluster is just that, for he is not very patient with fools. He likes us, though."

"He does?"

"The Prince loved Father like a brother and all the Starks, didn't he mention Auntie Lya to you?"

Sansa thought back to that barge ride on the Thames, where she'd first met him. He had said something like that to her, now that she thought back.

"I rib him all the time about his crush on Auntie Lya, but in all honesty I think he feels a little responsible for what happened as commanding officer at the time and he tries to make amends. I think he genuinely admired her pluck and skill with arms. He was made up when he found out I know my way round a weapon or two." She grinned, knowing full well that Sansa used to nag her for her tomboy ways when they were back home. "So perhaps being a hoyden isn't always a bad thing!"

“Are you sure they won’t mind?” Sansa worried at the wolf ring on her finger, a nervous trait she'd never been able to shake fully. She glanced outside the carriage at the greenery outside, "-after all, we never confirmed that we were coming round tonight, and Maggie and the prince may have plans for a quiet night in.”

Arya looked amused, “They won’t be out; they’ve pretty much been homebodies ever since Margaery moved in. Besides I think he wants to spend as much time with her before the Fleet moves out.”

 "He really does adore her, doesn't he?" marvelled Sansa, rather stunned that her best friend had fallen into a fairytale romance with a Prince and she had found what she had longed for since she met her, a man to love her for herself.

"Aye, I think he truly does."

* * *

Margaery was at home in a rather grand parlour decorated in warm golds and rusts. It all looked very homey, even though the house looked very new. Three or four dogs lay dozing by the fire, content and happy after a long walk and a good feed. Smudge spotted her old friend Arya and sprung up to greet her, nosing her hand for treats, tail thumping in sociable happiness.

"Hello, darlings!" she smiled at both of them. "Dinner is in an hour and a half as Rupert won't be back until then. How did you find the journey?

"Lovely place, isn't it? Thank you for sending the carriage for us, Jeyne was so excited about the journey."

"Aye, miss, it was that exciting, it was!"

“Are you truly happy here with the Prince?” Sansa asked her friend. She couldn’t help giving her a worried look as if she understood what had driven her to take such a drastic step but she couldn’t believe Margaery’s daring to take up with a lover and living in sin with him. _Did she not care about her good name, what other members of the court might say?_

Margaery nodded, a soft gentle smile on her face. All the tension and worry she'd had seemed smoothed away.

"Aye, he's so good to me, I can't tell you." She admitted, "I'm happier than ever, and we're committed to each other, he wanted us to be secure before the hostilities start and he goes out again with the Fleet. It's meant to be a bit of a secret , and it's not official as Carl-Louis refuses to acknowledge me, but-"

She unfurled her hand, displaying a ring on her left hand with a shy but proud smile. Sansa couldn't stop herself from letting out a loud gasp.

"Maggie, is that what I think it is?" Sansa asked in awe, "didn't he give you those magnificent pink pearls and those diamonds you wore at the ball in Tunbridge Wells?"

Even Arya was grudgingly impressed, "Wow, that is some serious jewellery!"

"It was just a small ceremony in the chapel, but it was all I ever wanted."

Sansa was genuinely pleased for her friend but she knew that the Tyrells probably weren't happy about their relationship. How would they react to a secret relationship? 

 

* * *

Margaery was lying utterly sated after another passionate night with Rupert. She vaguely felt the shift of weight on the bed as he got up early. He was such an early riser, often joining Charles on one of his early morning walks but today she felt a little lazy and inclined to let the men walk off all their excess energy. She shifted a little stretching out enticingly.

“Don’t move, my angel. Just for a moment.” He said.

Margaery opened her eyes, “What on earth are you doing, Rupert?”

For a moment he didn’t answer, engrossed in the scratching of pencil on paper. “Stay still, my love. Just for a moment. I want to get the curve of your lower back right.”

She returned to her former languid position. She felt a thrill of excitement at his close scrutiny of her body. She always liked him to look at her in that intense focused way of his, as if there was nothing else in the world but them.“Have you drawn me before?” she asked him with an amused quirk.

“Not from life. This is the first time. I was going to wake you but you looked so perfect in the early morning light I just had to capture it."

“Can I see?”

She saw him start to demur. “Please?”

“You know I can’t deny you anything. In my desk drawer the top right one. Turn the key in the lock-“

Margaery got up and sashayed naked to his desk, as she touched the polished teak surface, pleasurable memories of being bent over it's surface and swived soundly, lost in the urgency of their newly ignited passion.

There were three leather bound notebooks lying in the drawer. She picked one up and flipped it open wondering what she would see.

She would never have believed such a big vigorous masculine man, such as hardened proud steely warrior would be capable of such delicacy of hand such delicate artistic sensibility. She couldn't help but wonder what if he had never had to be a soldier what wonders he might have achieved artistically. 

There was sketch upon sketch of her, her very essence captured on paper: the gleam in her eye when she was about to come out with some witticism; the pout of her lips as she was thinking about being kissed; her sunny smile; the tilt of her head, her long gold-streaked curls and her elegant stance.

_Is this how he sees me? As this glorious goddess?_ Margaery felt humbled and in awe.

“I suppose you’ll think it strange but you’ve become somewhat of a muse to me, Maggie.”

Margaery couldn’t help but feel honoured by that. “I had no idea. When did you learn to draw like that?”

“My sibs and I were taught by Gerrit van Honthorst back at the Hague when we were growing up. We had a rather eclectic education, you could say.”

She closed the sketchbook and put it reverently back in it’s place. “You made me look beautiful.”

He looked at with an amused indulgent smile. “You are beautiful, Maggie.”

* * *

At the Theatre, Afternoon

Margaery wanted to still continue her work at the theatre and at least finish the season, fulfilling the commitment she had signed up to. Even though Rupert and her were near enough inseparable, she liked having a little independence, something that was just hers, that she was good at. She was rather surprised that he was so supportive of her plans once she had explained how important it was to her. 

"Of course, my love, I completely understand. I would ne'er keep you from your work." he told her earnestly as they discussed it over the dinner table.

"We will make it work, I promise. Perhaps you might stay at my Sprig Gardens apartments when you need to be in town and I will make arrangements for you to have access to the barge if we are to stay at the palaces. The coach can pick you up from work if you need and I'll assign some staff to help."

Having assured the company that she would return to work, but that there might be a change in circumstances due to her relationship with the Prince, Margaery had managed to organise things fairly well, although she knew John Dryden looked at her askance, and Killigrew grumbled under his breath but she knew that secretly he was pleased that she was willing enough to fulfill her contract and the Prince's patronage, along with that of the King and the Duke of York was invaluable. Finding a female as talented and popular as Margaery had become to take over her roles at this point in the season would have been near enough impossible.

Things were however put to the test with the sudden appearance of Joffrey at the theatre while she was discussing the subject with Ned Kynaston, Charles Hart and Killigrew.

"I'm terribly sorry, my lady but he barged right in. We tried to stop him, ser, but-"

"What are you talking about? Stop babbling and start again, I can barely understand you."  Margaery said with some impatience as she was halfway through removing her make up.

"Lord Baratheon. He's here!" the stage hand said in horror.

You could have heard a pin drop. "Lord Baratheon?"

Margaery froze, her honey gold eyes wide with horror. She was wide awake in an instant. "What on earth does he want? To invade the theatre like some ravaging wilding?"

"MARGAERY!" Joffrey bellowed, sounding crazed.

"I can't believe he would be so ill-mannered.” Ned Kynaston observed with some disdain.

"Someone is going to have to speak to him. This is all most irregular." Killigrew fussed in the background, making himself utterly useless in a moment of crisis.

Margaery steeled herself to deal with this unpleasantness. "I will."

Hart looked into her eyes, worried for her. "You refused his suit. You don't have to justify yourself to him anymore. We can get him thrown out and banned!"

Margaery steeled herself for the unpleasantness to come, "If I don't speak to him he's never going to go away. I have to deal with this, for once and for all."

Joffrey was pacing like an escaped madman when Margaery reached him. He looked wild-eyed and dishevelled, his outfit and cropped golden curls rumpled and mussed. Seeing him made her unaccountably furious, made her want to fly at him, scratch his face to ribbons. How dare he invade her workplace, making a spectacle of himself? _Did he have no pride, no decorum? What could I have ever have seen in him?_ She took deep breaths, trying to gain her poise and calm.

_To think I was prepared to link myself to that for life. Thank the Gods I saw the light in time and spared myself that horrendous fate!_

"What are you doing here?" she told him in her coldest, most haughty tones. She took on some of Rupert's hauteur with those he had no patience with.

"Lord Baratheon, why are you here?"

"Margaery!" he turned to her as soon as he saw her. She noticed that, yes, once again he had been drinking. Joffrey smelt like a brewery. If she had not been told better, she would have definitely believed that he was Robert Baratheon's child instead of Cersei's scandalous youthful liaision, the secret scandal she was so intent to hide and Renly had kept from her for so long.

I can be as brave as him, she told herself inwardly. I won't let him hurt me. But if he was desperate enough to force entry into her workplace, what lengths might he go to? _I don't trust him. I don't feel safe. I told Rupert I owed it to Joffrey to deal with him myself, rather than hiding behind the might of the prince._

"Margaery, you can't do this!" Joffrey stared at her with wild eyes. He reeked of drink and strong herbs. He'd obviously just come from some revel with Monmouth and his cronies. "You have to help me!"

_Whatever for?,_ she found herself thinking. _Why on earth would I ever help you?_

"Do what? In case you had forgotten we are no longer together." Her smile sharpened in it's cruelty. "Did you not remember I returned your ring to you?"

"What if I don't want to let you go? You're mine!"

"Not any more." She evaded his greedy grasp, glaring at him.

"Oh, you are clever, Margaery, aren't ye? The moment you see that my star has fallen, you latch onto someone else, more influential and powerful to protect you." he leered at her with a jaundiced eye. "What's it like spreading your thighs for a prince, Margaery? I'm surprised that you didn't try harder to keep the king instead. Surely he would be of more use to you? Perhaps if you had, he would have pardoned your precious Renly, eh?" 

_Ugh, he was going to be difficult!_ Margaery resigned herself to more unpleasantness and conflict as she faced Joffrey. _Why couldn’t they be civilised about this and act like adults?_

"Joffrey, why are you doing this?"

"There's been some trouble at court." 

_Why was she not surprised about this?_ "Trouble?"

Joffrey stomped around the room, a moody petulant expression on his face. She couldn't help resenting the fact that he expected her to give a damn about his mess ups any more. _I dumped his sorry hide for a reason!_

"There's been a stuff-up about some whore that has gone missing. Jemmy and I have been dragged into it. The king is playing hard-ball and refusing to excuse his son and that means I'm in the dog-house."

Margaery shivered as if someone had stepped on her grave. _He was involved in that case. She might have known!_

"What? Why are looking at me like that?" he demanded in a petulant tone.

"You killed that girl. On one of your revels." She recoiled in disgust from him. The thought of his grasping hands on her made her feel sick to the guts. All she could think of was Mimi's ruined face and twisted limbs.

"It was an accident. Things went too far. The bitch wouldn't talk. Jemmy was panicking-"

_Ha! See how he tries to pin this on Jemmy now, the disloyal bastard!_

"Joffrey, you and I know that Jemmy isn't a murderer. Weak and easily led, aye, but not a murderer. You killed Ros, and now you come here fighting with theatre staff and invading my workplace."

"I wouldn't have come if I wasn't desperate. Even mother, Tommen and Myrcella won't see me now. She told me to distance myself from them."

"Are you out of your mind, Joffrey? How could you bring this to my door?" She said, backing away from him as if he were something noxious.

"I have nowhere else to go. You have to help me! You must!"

“I don’t have to do anything, Joffrey!”

_How dare you,_ she thought, seething at him and his arrogance and lack of remorse for his crime. _He hasn't even tried to deny he was involved with the murder of Ros MacIntyre. How dare you come here, begging me to speak for you, when you're involved in a murder investigation! You deserve everything that's coming to you, Joffrey!_

"You owe me, Margaery. You would have been nothing without me!"

His scornful words filled her with anger. _Damn him and his arrogance! Why do I have to put up with it!_

"That's where you're wrong, Joffrey. I was never nothing."

"Are you going to let him speak for you? Margaery!" he whined. “You’re meant to be mine! I would have made you a duchess. Have you lost your mind?”

She shook her head just wanting him to leave and trouble them no more. "Please Joff, just go-"

"D'ye think that any other man would have had you honorably? To offer you marriage as if you were a respectable woman?"

_As if I were a respectable woman! How easily he insults me while he crawls to me for help!_ she thought resentfully.

He went on, unperturbed by her rebuke. "Even Prince Rupert won't marry you, Margaery. His brother does not think you're good enough! And what happens when he gets bored of you, just like he did with Frances Bard and deserts you? Is he going to leave you with a full belly and a house, just like her?"

He hit every insecurity of hers like a drill to the nerves. "How dare you speak to me like that!" she snapped, jabbing her finger aggressively into his face. "We're done, Joffrey! You dare lay a finger on me again, and you'll be sorry!"

"What? you're going to set Rupert on me, are you?" Joffrey smirked. Taking the opportunity to delve into the open neckline of her chemise and grope her roughly, as if he had a right any more. "Nice firm teats you've got. Bet he likes 'em, eh?" A sharp elbow to the solar plexus stopped his wandering hands. 

"What am I meant to think when I find you here in dishabille, your hair undressed and down and-” he grabbed hold of the tops of her arms in a bruising grip, ignoring her struggles. “Is that a stubble mark on your neck? You have, haven't you?” he shook her, making her teeth rattle. “You swived him, that old lecher! You reek of him, of the bedroom! You've probably got his leavings leaking out of you right now. You shameless whore!”

She wrested herself free and stamped hard on his foot. He grimaced in pain and let her go. She was so angry she clenched her fist to stop herself from belting him across the face.

Margaery drew back her leg and slammed her knee into his groin with all her strength. "No, I'll deal with you myself!"

Joffrey doubled up like a jack-knife, red-faced with pain.

“Don’t you e’er touch me again! You have no right!” she snarled.

"Fucking bitch!" he wheezed, clutching his groin in evident pain as he clambered back up, a vengeful look on his face. 

Margaery tried to back away from him but he lunged at her, his hands digging into her flesh, starting to bruise her. "You unmanned me!"

Joffrey had grabbed her hair and was shaking her round like a rag doll. His face was contorted as he spat rage. "You little cunt, I'll teach you a lesson you'll not forget-"

_He's lost his mind! He's going to hurt me, like Solange, like Mimi, like Ros. I know it. Oh God, make it stop._ She was starting to feel faint.

"Stop, Joffrey please stop it." She struggled to say. "Joffrey, why are you doing this? Don't be a fool-"

Joffrey had grabbed her hair and was shaking her round like a rag doll. His face was contorted as he spat rage. "You little cunt, I'll teach you a lesson you'll not forget-"

His face contorted with rage. She'd heard horrible stories about his violent streak and she didn't put it past him to do something terrible to her. She knocked her knuckles subtly against the wall, hoping to summon before Joffrey did something stupid.

The door flew open nearly off it's hinges and Rupert strode in like an angry god .He took in the scene, Joffrey shouting abuse and obscenities at Margaery, gripping her by the throat, and his protective instinct kicked in, instantly pulling him off her and shoving him against the wall. His fist flew out and smacked Joffrey in the face. 

Joffrey went down again, squealing in pain and clutching at his face.

She reeled as Joffrey suddenly let her go falling into Rupert's arms.

"I've got you, sweet Meg. I'll never let him or anyone hurt you again sweetheart."

She clung on to him feeling immeasurably safe in his arms. When his mouth bent to seek hers in a gesture of comfort and love she returned it fervently, clinging to him, not caring about the gaping furious Joffrey.

_Let him see!_ She thought with unaccustomed savagery. _Let him see that I am Prince Rupert’s now, body heart and soul. Joffrey never had me and he never will!_

Rupert towered over him, threatening and forbidding. 

Margaery had never seen him truly angry before. It was quite a formidable sight. She understood why grown men quivered in fear at the prospect of his anger.

“Tell me why I should not tear you apart with my bare hands?” Margaery had no doubt he meant every word.

"How dare you disturb our peace, to invade my lady's tiring-room, Baratheon-" Rupert said in a cold fury. “How dare you lay hands on my wife!”

"She's my fiancée-" Joffrey whined, backing away from the wrathful prince. "-and she's shaming me, cavorting with you."

"Lady Margaery rejected your suit and returned your ring to you. Your engagement is over."

Joffrey stammered, lost for words. "But I- you can't. There's a contract- why?" The younger man looked lost, as if he couldn’t quite come to terms that he’d lost her, and now Margaery refused to help him in his desperate straits.

"Your engagement is over, Joffrey." There was no compromise in his tone as he stared the younger man down.

"Are you going to let him speak for you? Margaery!" he whined. “You’re meant to be mine! I would have made you a duchess. Have you lost your mind?”

She shook her head just wanting him to leave and trouble them no more. "Please Joff, just go-"

"If you ever lay a hand or even look at the Lady Margaery in a manner that displeases her well... I wouldn't." She had no doubt he meant what he said. Joffrey didn't stand a chance.

"Get the hell out of London, and perhaps I will not tear you limb from limb, though you sorely deserve it."

* * *

The maids of honour were avidly talking about the latest scandal to engulf Lady Margaery Tyrell. Of course many of them had seen it coming. No one could have noticed the scorching chemistry between the Prince and Margaery during the tennis match, the lavish presents he'd given her, that wonderful town house and those fabulous jewels and failed to note that something big was in the air.

"Can you believe it; she really did call off the wedding to Joffrey?" Lady Betty confided, absolutely besides herself in gossip heaven.

"Lady Tyrell must have lost her mind!"

"Or come to her senses at last." Beth Lauderdale said roundly. “Aboot bloody time!”

"Obviously Lady Tyrell decided to upgrade to a Prince!" Lady Shrewsbury gave a cynical smirk. “Whatever else, you can’t really fault the girl’s ambition!”

"She threw Joffrey's ring back at him, can you even credit it!" Lady Betty gloated. "It was a sweet moment when it ricocheted off his periwig!"

"Damn, I **knew** that I should have gone to that party at Tunbridge Wells. If only I coud have go an invitation! I missed everything!" sulked Cary Frazier.

"How does she manage it? Two betrothals to one duke, one count and a steamy love affair with a prince. Most of us are lucky to bag one titled swain and she has three!" Winnifred Wells said, shaking her head. "'Tis alright for some!"

"Some girls have all the luck!" Cary retorted. “You know after the Duke of York and the King himself, he’s the most important man at court really-“

Betty's big blue eyes widened as she realised just how juicy this situation was, and what a coup Margaery had pulled off right under their noses, “I’d never thought of it like that. Gosh, Margaery is cleverer than we all thought, isn’t she?”

"And I heard that Lord Baratheon confronted her for what he saw as her infidelity and she not only refused to go back to him, but the prince punched him in the face for threatening her.”

“Joffrey has a spectacular shiner and a broken nose. Lady Casterly is furious but there’s nothing she can do-"

Beth Lauderdale hooted with laughter at the mental image. “Och, I would’ve given my left tit to have been a fly on the wall there!”

The ladies gave a delighted gasp of horror, this was better than a play. Such drama about one of their own! 

* * *

Cersei's apartments, King's Street

Cersei dabbed at her son’s battered face with a cool cloth, tending his wounds as Joffrey winced in pain. He was still fuming from what happened in the afternoon. _How could Margaery, his fiancee, his ticket to a title of his own and wealth refuse to return to him?_ This was a mightmare, this was never meant to happen and he did not like not being in control.

“So she _was_ sleeping with the Prince Palatinate! I might have known she was up to no good.” Cersei grated, furious at the talk echoing round court and the fact that not one person seemed to support their faction.

“That little bitch humiliated me!” he moaned. “How could she? She reeked of him! Isn’t he old enough to be her father?”

“That doesn’t seem to have worried Margaery. After the frustration she must have had with Renly, she must have been desperate for a good swiving! You’re better off without that slattern to muddy our bloodlines-”

His mother tried to console him, but Joffrey was beyond all comfort. What was he going to do? All that money he owed! It made him sick to the guts just thinking about it. And even worse Renly being pardoned by the king and this allegation of the murder of Ros MacIntyre that Jemmy were neck deep in. He could not have been in a worse position.

“But she refused me, over and over. Nothing I said or did would persuade her to relent. I never got to do anything but kiss her and that rarely enough. I could have had a chance at having the Stormlands and a chunk of Highgarden as well. Mace promised me!”

“Well, obviously he has no control over his daughter.”


End file.
